


To Wake from Nightmares

by imamaryanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, eventual rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imamaryanne/pseuds/imamaryanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An eighth year fic where Harry and Neville get together. Their happiness is threatened by the mere presence of Draco Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry woke up and stirred. He reached over to the side table and grabbed his glasses and watch. It was only six in the morning, but he’d just slept for about eighteen hours straight. 

He’d needed that sleep. He sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched, working out the aches and kinks in his body.  A twenty-four hour stretch that had included getting burned by golden treasures, escaping through a building on the back of a dragon, running from dementors and death eaters in Hogsmeade, sneaking into Hogwarts, fighting a battle, taking yet another  _ avada kedavra,  _ and battling some more had left Harry with stiff joints and painful muscles. Eighteen straight hours of near-motionless sleep hadn’t helped matters either.

Harry looked around. The Gryffindor boys’ dormitory was crowded. All the beds were filled, and several other beds had been conjured and held other sleeping figures. He’d been the first to fall asleep, and was shocked that he’d managed to sleep through everyone else coming in and conjuring beds and sleeping. 

Ron was in his own bed, Hermione snuggled up against him. The next bed had Dean, then Seamus in his. Neville’s bed was the only empty one in the room.  The conjured beds were situated in the middle of the room. The biggest bed held Molly and Arthur Weasley, with George on one side of them, Ginny on the other. Another bed had Percy and Charlie, another with Bill and Fleur. Padma and Parvati Patil were asleep in a small bed, holding hands. Harry had no idea how it came to be that all these people had chosen to sleep in this particular boys’ dormitory. 

Harry stood quietly and was relieved to see a clean piled of robes and clothes at the foot of his bed. He picked them up and sniffed them. He recognized immediately the smell of the soap Kreacher used all those months ago when he, Ron, and Hermione had been living at 12 Grimmauld Place. He felt pang of affection for Kreacher in the pit of his stomach. He’d been thrilled last night to see the little elf coming out of the kitchen, so pleased to know he hadn’t met the same end as Dobby. 

Harry grabbed his clothes and went into the boys’ bathroom. Neville was in there showering. He turned when he heard the door open. “Morning, Harry,” Neville said.

“Morning,” Harry mumbled. 

The showers in the boys bathroom lined the walls, separated only by small partitions. Neville was in the far shower, and Harry took the one next to him and started the water. The water was warm and wonderful. As it ran over his back, Harry turned it even hotter and stood under the faucet and let the feeling of the grime of the previous day - two previous days, really -  wash away. “Ahhh,” he couldn’t help but sigh. 

“Feels good, eh?” Neville asked conversationally. 

“You have no idea,” Harry answered, closing his eyes and enjoying the luxury of a hot shower. It took a moment to realize that was a stupid answer, because Neville of course  _ did _ have an idea. He was doing the same thing Harry was. He was washing away not only the dirt and grime of the forest and the battle, he was trying to wash away all the pain, the death, and the sadness. Harry watched as the dirty water swirled down the drain, imagining his emotions being taken with it. 

Harry opened his eyes and looked over at Neville, whose face was scarred and bruised. Neville’s chest and shoulder were covered in cuts and bruises as well. Harry looked down at his own body, also bruised and gashed in places, but also deep scars where the necklace had burned into his chest that night in the frozen pond, and yet another lightning-shaped scar in the center of his chest, courtesy of Voldemort’s second killing curse. “Sorry,” Harry said. “You know.”

Neville shrugged and smiled. He finished soaping up, while Harry began shampooing his hair and washing his own body. The house elves had seen to having the bathrooms fully stocked, which Harry was grateful for. After ten minutes, he felt as clean as he could remember feeling since Bill and Fleur’s wedding. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and shook out the water before grabbing a soft white towel and drying off. Oh god, he’d forgotten the simple pleasure of drying yourself after a shower with a nice warm clean towel.  He buried his face in the towel for a moment, drinking in the feel. 

After drying off, Harry slipped on a clean pair of boxers and joined Neville at the sinks where they shaved. Another thing Harry missed was the feeling of a really good shave. He and Ron had taken to using their wands to try and get a clean face, but it was never very good, and they’d ended up with five o’clock shadows more often than not. 

“Just like old times,” Neville said. 

Harry smiled mildly. He and Neville had been the first of the Gryffindors to start shaving. Both needed it by the beginning of their fifth years. Seamus, nearly a year older than either of them, had hardly been able to control his jealousy. Now that Harry thought of it, he wasn’t even sure Seamus had been shaving by the end of sixth year. “Seamus ever start?” Harry asked. 

Neville quirked a small smile at Harry, “Yeah. But I don’t think he needs to.”

Harry met Neville’s eyes in the mirror and they grinned at each other. They went back to shaving quietly, but Harry kept sneaking glances over at Neville. Either Neville had filled out in the last year, or Harry had never realized how fit his Gryffindor roommate was. He had broad shoulders, well-muscled arms and definition down his abdomen. By contrast, Harry felt small and scrawny. But then, Harry checked out his own reflection briefly, he was small and scrawny by almost anyone’s comparison. Nearly a full year of near-starvation had done nothing to bulk up Harry’s already lithe body. 

Neville finished first, and wiped his face with a washcloth, then patted it dry with a towel. Harry glanced as Neville removed the towel from around his waist, and pulled on a pair of boxers. Harry was aware of his propensity to check out guys, and some days he could even convince himself it was just to imagine what it would be like to be as built as Neville, or as brawny as Charlie Weasley. But in his more honest moments, he knew what he was actually doing. By the time Neville turned around, Harry had turned his attention back to his own face and was just finishing his shave. 

“How are you doing, Harry?” Neville asked quietly. “Really.”

Harry swallowed and locked eyes with Neville in the mirror. “I’m working very hard on getting clean and shaven, and trying to not think about the last couple days.”

Neville bit his lip, “You can’t ignore it.”

“I know,” Harry said. “Just...not right now. Once everyone wakes up I won’t be able to not think about it.”

Neville nodded in understanding. He pointed to Harry’s clothes, “Your elf came up last night to deliver clothes for you and Ron and Hermione. He yelled at all of us for talking too loudly. Said Master Harry needs his sleep.”

Harry snorted, “Well, I’m grateful for the clothes.”

“Dobby used to make sure we were all kept in clean clothes in the room of requirement. But one day he just wasn’t here anymore.” Neville frowned and shrugged, “I dunno what happened to him.”

Harry stared at Neville. He felt like he’d just taken a sucker-punch to the gut. All the work Harry had done that morning in carefully not thinking about anything that had happened was gone. “He died,” Harry croaked. “Dobby. He died saving us from Malfoy Manor.”

Neville looked horrified. “Merlin. I didn’t know. Harry, I’m sorry-”

“”S okay,” Harry murmured, trying to carefully modulate his voice. He was going to start crying, and he was breathing evenly to try to get that under control. 

“No,” Neville said loudly. “No it’s not.” Neville turned and punched the wall, “Fucking Malfoy!” he shouted. 

Harry was shocked. He had never heard Neville curse, never heard so much as a ‘damn’ come out of his mouth. But still, that reaction plus the reminder of Dobby finally sent Harry into tears. The dam burst and he couldn’t stop the hot tears from running down his face. 

He sat down on a bench across from the showers. Neville looked contrite and sat next to him. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry whispered, unsure if Neville could even hear him. The images from the day before - the bodies of Fred, and Tonks, and Remus, and Colin Creevy, waved in front of him. He saw Lavender Brown falling in slow motion, saw a werewolf attack her. It was stupid. It was so stupid that those people had to die. If he’d just been better, maybe been a little bit smarter at finding horcruxes, they’d still be here. 

Harry buried his face in his hands. Neville sat down beside him and began to rub his back. After a couple minutes, Harry hiccupped, “Sorry.”

“No. Don’t ever say that. Don’t ever be sorry, Harry.” Neville continued to rub Harry’s back. It felt good, almost like a massage, and was comforting. “Fucking Malfoy,” he mumbled again. 

“It wasn’t Malfoy,” Harry explained. “It was…” he drifted off. “It was Bellatrix LeStrange.”

Neville snorted. “Merlin. Of course it was. Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor. Isn’t that just perfect?”

Harry didn’t know what Neville meant, exactly, by that and didn’t ask. He concentrated more on getting his emotions in check. He hadn’t meant to start sobbing to Neville, hadn’t meant to start sobbing at all, really. “Sorry,” he said again. 

“Stop,” Neville ordered him. “Don’t be sorry. Cry if you want to. Merlin knows I spent enough time crying this year.”

It made Harry feel better to hear that. To know that, despite feeling so alone in his mission (Ron and Hermione’s presence notwithstanding), that other people were out there, fighting and working on the side of good and  _ crying  _ over it helped him feel better. “Yeah?” he asked. 

Neville nodded, his hands now working entirely over Harry’s back, giving him a deep massage that made Harry want to collapse it felt so glorious. It felt so good, he could barely concentrate on the faces of the dead. “Where’d you learn to do this?” he asked.

Neville laughed softly. “It was something we’d do for each other this past year. In the room of requirement. Tension was high and….this helped.”

“God,” Harry murmured, closing his eyes into it. “You know the Room is ruined, right?”

Neville stopped massaging. “What?” he asked fiercely. “ _ What?” _ he repeated. 

Harry turned around. “Goyle set off Fiendfyre. It took the whole room down, and Goyle with it.”

“No.” Neville said firmly. “No, no, no. That room isn’t gone. It can’t be.”

“I saw it Neville. I don’t think it can come back from Fiendfyre,” Harry explained. 

Neville looked furious and stood up quickly, “Let’s go. You need to show me.”

“All right,” Harry agreed. He and Neville pulled their clothes on and left the bathroom. Everyone in the dormitory was still asleep, so they tiptoed quietly through, down the stairs and through the common room. The fat lady’s portrait had been blasted off the wall, leaving a gaping hole. 

The entire castle was quiet. Harry felt as though he and Neville were the only people awake. The destruction was incredible. Large chunks of the castle walls were missing, showing a gorgeous spring day. The rising sun was glinting off the lake, and flowers were beginning to pop out around Hagrid’s hut. Harry and Neville climbed to the seventh floor. 

This floor had taken a brunt of the force. The floor was rubbly and even missing in some spots. Harry and Neville had to climb over knocked down pillars and jumbles of knights. He feared that they would knock loose a piece of building and find a body underneath, but they managed to make it to the hallway without encountering another person - living or dead. 

The door to the room of requirement was still there, and as Harry and Neville approached it, the heat from the inferno on the other side was radiating out. Neville placed his hands against the door. Harry looked at him, worried. But Neville appeared calm. 

“Let’s clear some space,” he said, pointing his wand at the floor and moving rubble to the side. Harry pitched in, and after a few minutes, they had a space of about ten feet in front of the door. “Let me work on this,” Neville said. 

Harry nodded and stepped back. He watched as Neville screwed up his face in concentration and stared at the door. He took a deep breath, and began to pace slowly in front of the door. The look on his face slowly changed from intense concentration to a relaxed state.  He continued to march in front of the wall, and Harry realized that Neville was in an almost trance-like state. It was an amazing thing to watch, Neville being so magically connected to the room. 

Sure enough, after a few passes, the large stone door that held off the Fiendfyre-engulfed room, slowly disappeared. Another few passes later and a new door appeared. This one wooden and painted bright red with a large brass lion doorknocker. Neville shook his head, and came out of his trance. He placed his hands to the door and looked at Harry. “It’s cool.”

Harry set his hand next to Neville’s and was shocked to feel the cool smooth wood. He could tell, before the door was even opened, that there was no fire burning behind it. 

Neville grasped the handle and pushed. He and Harry entered the room. Harry didn’t know what Neville was concentrating on, but the room had morphed into a small square with a stone floor and a stone fireplace along one wall, two white marble statues of nude male forms on either side. Much of the room was taken up by a large, luxurious four-poster bed.

“Er…” Neville drifted off, his face had turned bright red. “Right. So I guess the room still works.”

Harry glanced around, and said quickly. “Yeah.” He wasn’t thinking about the decor, so much. He was thinking that this was a good sign; if the Room of Requirement was so easy to fix, there was hope for the rest of the wizarding world. He sat down on the bed and gathered his emotions. 

“You alright?” Neville asked. 

“I’m just…” Harry drifted off. “I’m really pleased about the room.”

Neville smiled and sat next to Harry. “Me too.” 

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments before Harry looked at Neville and smiled, “Let’s go start work on the rest of the castle.”


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks later, Neville was back at his Gran’s house. He’d spent the two weeks following the battle at Hogwarts, helping to rebuild the castle. But eventually people began drifting away, anxious to get back to their homes and lives. Professor McGonagall had insisted that all students who would be returning to Hogwarts the next year, had to leave for their summer holiday. 

It was early in the morning and Neville had just woken up and was getting dressed. He looked at himself in the mirror critically. All of his cuts had healed, though he was scarred in a few places. The bruises had gone from dark black to blue and finally to a jaundice-yellow before finally disappearing the week prior. 

He heard a knock on the front door, and kept an ear out, hoping Gran would answer it. Neville was sick to death of having to turn away reporters from  _ The Prophet _ . He wasn’t interested in giving his story, and he certainly didn’t want the attention that he knew would come along with an interview. 

“Neville!” Gran called up the stairs. “You have a visitor.”

 

Neville pulled on his shirt and headed down the stairs, wondering who’d be visiting him. He was pleasantly surprised to see Harry Potter sitting at the table, pouring milk into a teacup. “Harry!” He said. 

Harry turned his head and smiled. “Hey, Neville.”

“What’s going on?”

“Neville, sit and have some breakfast,” Gran ordered. 

“Yes, Gran.” Neville said, and sat obediently.

Harry fiddled with his fingers nervously. “I was hoping I could get your help with something I need to do today.”

“Sure,” Neville said agreeably. 

Harry smirked, “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you. This might be even more unpleasant than beheading a snake.”

Neville chuckled, “OK then. What do you need?”

“I need to help get my Aunt and Uncle back in their house.”

“You need to what?”

“I’m meeting Kingsley at their house. He, Dedalus, and Hestia are going to check the whole house for jinxes and dark magic. I’m going to be there because….” Harry drifted off. “I don’t know why. Because Kingsley shouldn’t have to deal with them by himself, and Hestia and Dedalus have done enough already.”

“You’re too nice,” Neville said. 

Harry shrugged. “I just think I should be there for it, I guess.”

“Why do you need someone to go with you?”

Harry sighed, “I’m feeling a little...on edge recently.”

“Aren’t we all?” Gran interrupted. 

Harry glanced quickly at Gran then back at Neville. He wasn’t quite sure how to take what she’d said, but she didn’t look annoyed at Harry for his sentiment. On the contrary, she looked a little sad. “Yeah,” he continued. “I just think it’d help me to have someone there, who’s not….” Harry drifted off. “Not prone to outbursts of temper that might lead to hexing and me being responsible for their stays at St. Mungos.”

Neville smiled and laughed, “And that’s me?”

Harry shrugged, “Well, it’s not me. Or Ron or Ginny for that matter. Hermione’d lecture my Aunt and Uncle, Mr. Weasley would bother them about how the toaster works, and Mrs. Weasley would glare at them disapprovingly.” He took a sip of his tea.

“Sure,” Neville agreed easily. “When are you going?”

Harry looked at his watch, “Now?”

“Now?” Neville laughed. “Not even giving me time to eat breakfast?”

Gran frowned at Harry. “I like Neville to start the day with breakfast in his system. Keeps a person regular.”

“Oh Merlin,” Neville mumbled, rubbing his forehead, his face turning pink. 

Harry wanted to snort, but was afraid of getting told off by Neville’s Gran. Instead he took a sip of tea, and said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice, “I’ll treat you to breakfast in London.” 

“All right,” Neville agreed, happy that Harry hadn’t made a thing over Gran talking about regularity. 

Neville brushed his teeth and combed his hair, and within minutes was ready. 

“I haven’t passed my apparition exam,” Harry explained. 

“Nor have I,” Neville answered. “I never even learned how to do it.”

Harry held out some paper and Neville took it. “I spent a year apparating illegally. But I think I shouldn’t do it until I pass my exam. So this is muggle money,” he said. “We’re taking the bus to the underground, and the underground to another bus where my Aunt and Uncle live.”

“Muggle transport?” Gran barked. “No. Take the floo.”

“Can’t,” Harry answered. “Their house isn’t connected.”

“Take the floo to the ministry, or somewhere closer,” she demanded. 

Harry glanced at Neville, who shrugged. “No. No, I’d rather stay away from wizards at the moment, Mrs. Longbottom. I’m being followed day and night, but I can do this quietly if I stick with muggle streets.” Gran made Harry feel about twelve years old again. 

“Hmm,” Gran muttered, frowning. 

Harry glanced between Gran and Neville. Finally Neville shrugged, “Yeah, let’s go.”

As they shut the door behind them, Neville sighed. “Sorry about her.”

“It’s all right,” Harry assured him. 

“She just….she thinks I’m still a kid.”

“It’s fine,” Harry stressed again. “It’s nice you have someone to look after you.”

“I-” Neville cut himself off, wondering if Harry was offended about complaining about parental affection. “It’s nice, sure,” he finally agreed lamely.

“She even cares enough that you eat breakfast and keep regular,” Harry teased.

“Oh, Merlin.” Neville’s face turned pink. “What is it with old people and regularity? I was at Hogwarts before I learned bathroom habits weren’t discussed almost daily.”

Harry snickered. He and Neville had become closer in the few weeks that they’d spent at Hogwarts. They’d decided -without ever speaking about it - not to tell anyone that the room of requirement was fixed. And a few of times over those weeks, when Harry’s emotions would get the best of him and he threatened to lash out or cry uncontrollably, he’d sneak off to the room and lie down on the bed. A couple of those times, Neville came in and gave Harry one of his fabulous back massages. 

The massages should have made Harry feel weird, but they didn’t. He liked being touched by Neville, and if Neville was willing to do it, Harry wasn’t about to stop him. On occasion Harry even considered trying to kiss Neville. 

Which he never would, because he didn’t even think Neville was gay. Hell, for that matter Harry wasn’t even sure he was gay himself. 

_ Confused _ , is what Harry decided he was. He’d just had a pretty traumatic year, the kind that would have nearly anyone finding comfort in the smallest emotional connection with another human being. Neville was an easy person to talk to, and he had a lot of insights about what had gone on at Hogwarts the prior year. It was a topic they’d talk about sometimes, Harry telling about the never ending camping and horcrux trip, while Neville told Harry about what had gone on at school that year. 

So of course Harry was feeling close to Neville. That didn’t mean he wanted to jump into the sack with him. And that he no longer wanted to jump in the sack with Ginny either? Well, like he’d decided. It was a traumatic year and he had changed. 

___

“This is where you grew up then?” Neville asked as he and Harry stood in front of number 4 Privet Drive. 

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. He’d been sure that the last time he’d left would be the last time he’d see the house. He was not happy to be back. 

“You ready to go in?” Neville placed his hand at the small of Harry’s back and pushed. 

The push helped. Harry glanced and smiled at Neville. They marched quickly up the walk and to the front door. Harry tried the knob and was unsurprised to find that it was unlocked. 

Neville looked around, “I’ve never been in a muggle’s house before.”

“Really?” Harry asked. “Well, here it is.” He waved his hand around vaguely, “Living room, kitchen over there, small parlor over there, stairs to the bedrooms that way.” Harry took a few more steps into the house. The Dursleys had left with most of their things, but a couple of larger items hadn’t fit into storage and were left behind. 

It was obvious people had been in at some point. The couch was overturned, and the television had been taken off its stand and thrown on the floor. Electronic bits were sticking out from the cracked screen. Neville followed Harry into the kitchen where the damage was worse. 

It looked as though there had been an attempt to blow up the floor. Chunks of tile were missing. The tile backsplash, was now a pile of rubble on the counter. The refrigerator was hanging open, but when Harry plugged it in, it did at least work. 

They were making their way into the parlor, when there was a faint popping sound from the back garden. Harry looked out the window and saw Kingsley striding toward the house. He waved from the window, and Kingsley smiled and waved back. 

“Harry,” Kingsley said in his low cool voice, as he stepped into the house. “Thanks for being here.”

“Sure,” Harry shrugged. 

“Hello, Longbottom,” Kingsley said to Neville.

Neville’s ears turned pink, but he looked pleased that Kingsley knew who he was. “Hello, Minister,” he mumbled. 

Kingsley smiled kindly, “Please. Call me Kingsley.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Neville stuttered. 

“No Dedalus or Hestia as yet?”

“No,” Harry answered. “We’ve only been here a couple of minutes. Death eaters were definitely here. There’s some damage,” Harry pointed to the mess in the kitchen, “But so far nothing seems terribly out of place.”

“Very well.” Kingsley looked thoughtful. “I’m going to begin checking for curses and hexes, if you two want to follow with some quick reparo charms?”

“Yes,” Harry agreed as Neville nodded in agreement.

Before they could begin, they heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. Harry, Neville and Kingsley headed to the front of the house and opened the front door, to see Uncle Vernon pulling up into the driveway. They were situated much like they had been the last time Harry’d seen them nearly a year earlier. Aunt Petunia in the passenger seat, and Dudley in the back surrounded by Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones. 

He wasn’t happy to see them. Up to this point, Harry’s thoughts centered getting to the house, fixing some things and keeping Kingsley company, but he hadn’t stopped to consider what it is he should say to his Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin. 

Vernon came into the house first, completely ignoring Harry, Kingsley and Neville standing there. “What’s all this?” he barked, seeing the couch and television overturned. 

“Some death eaters got in,” Kingsley explained, “And broke some of your possessions.”

“Well,” Vernon huffed, his face already turning purple, “I expect your lot will be paying for it.”

_ BANG!  _

Everyone jumped. Harry was standing with his wand drawn. He’d moved the couch to a standing position and up against the wall so forcefully that it’d scared everyone else. 

“We’ll fix what we can,” Harry said, his teeth clenched already. 

Neville laid a hand on Harry’s forearm, and had him lower his wand, which he hadn’t even realized he was pointing directly at Vernon’s large gut. 

“Well, what about the television?” Vernon asked, thoroughly ignoring the magic that had just been done in his house. Petunia and Dudley were hovering at the doorway, looking very worriedly between Vernon and Harry. 

Kingsley answered, “Magic can not fix electronics,” he explained.

Vernon huffed, and blew out his mustache. “Well. I don’t see why  _ we _ should have to pay for a new television when it was your lot that broke it.”

Kingsley, Neville and Harry glanced at each other. Hestia interrupted, “I’m sure we could work something out.”

“We could work out that Vernon could be happy that it was his television that’s broken and not his skull. Or not his wife or son,” Harry spat, pointing at Petunia and Dudley. “Vernon could realize that ‘ _ our lot’  _ did a hell of a lot to keep them safe this past year and maybe  _ our lot _ doesn’t feel like being held responsible for a television set.”

“All right then,” Kingsley said before Vernon could answer. Everyone ignored Vernon’s fuming face. Kingsley sounded ready to get a move on already. “Dedalus, Hestia and I are going to check the house for dark magic, jinxes, and hexes. I’m fairly sure it’s safe, but there  _ were _ death eaters here and we want to make sure there are no nasty surprises in store for you. Harry and Neville here are going to make any repairs that we can using magic. Some things,” Kingsley looked at Vernon, “Might not be able to be repaired.”

“Just...do what you can,” came Petunia’s soft voice from the doorway. She looked terrified at having five wizards in her house. Harry also noticed that she looked considerably older. There were wrinkles and and bags around her eyes that Harry swore hadn’t been there the year before. He knew that Dedalus’ house had been burned by the death eaters at some point, but he’d never wondered where they’d landed after that happened. 

It was mostly silent as the wizards went from room to room. Kingsley, Hestia, and Dedalus raising their wands and using incantations meant to show dark magic. Throughout the first floor, nothing was found. Vernon followed them closely, but stayed with Kingsley, Hestia, and Dedalus as they got further ahead. Harry and Neville had a harder time in the kitchen, as they had to use  _ reparo _ on every speck of dust on the floor and counters to fully mend the tiles. Then they had to charm them to stick. Dudley and Petunia stuck with Harry and Neville, watching silently. 

“So…” Dudley began, the first he’d spoken since being back. “You guys won, then You won the..uh..battle?”

Harry glanced at him, “Yeah,” he nodded, then pointed his wand at a broken tile, “ _ Reparo _ .” 

Dudley was watching the whole process with interest. “That’s good.”

Harry nodded, unable to answer. He really didn’t feel like talking to either Dudley or Petunia. He’d had enough this past year and did not care for the idea of still having to deal with people who very much didn’t care about him. 

The tiles were finally all repaired, and Harry and Neville got to work replacing them on the floor and the wall. Harry took the floor and Neville took the wall. 

After a few minutes, Petunia said, her voice halting, “That’s not...that’s not exactly the pattern of the tiles.”

Harry looked up and saw she was looking at the backsplash tile Neville was working on. “Sorry,” Neville said pleasantly, “How do you want me to do it?”

“I think I like this better,” she gave him a small smile. “You’re very good at this.” Harry looked at her, then at Neville’s tile work. He shrugged, she was right. The tiles were very straight and even on the backsplash. The floor tiles Harry was working on were slightly crooked. Maybe he could try a little harder. 

“Neville’s got excellent wand work,” Harry said, smirking. From the time he was in his third year, the double entendres for “wand” never got old, and he and his friends never stopped making them (much to Hermione’s dismay.)

Neville openly laughed, Petunia looked confused, but  _ oh my god,  _ was that a smile on Dudley’s face? Harry and Neville made eye contact and looked mildly surprised. Petunia sniffed and reached for a glass in the cupboard and got herself some water. “Would either of you like something to drink?” she asked. Her voice was strained. 

Harry half wanted to know what was going through her mind, and half wanted to get the hell out of there. But when Neville answered, “Yes, please,” Harry shrugged and agreed to have some water. 

Petunia handed him the water. “Did you get the guy?” she asked. “The one who….you know….Lily.”

“Yes,” Harry answered, surprised. Did she not know that’s what winning was? “He’s dead.”

“OK,” she fiddled with her glass nervously. “Well. Thank you for that.”

And with that, Petunia left the kitchen. Harry watched Dudley, who looked mildly embarrassed and followed his mother out of the room.

There was a pause before Neville said, “Awkward.”

Harry snorted, “Yep. Let’s just finish up. I want to get out of here.”

Harry went back to work, but Neville continued to look at him. “You all right?”

“Fine,” Harry grunted, trying to shove a tile into place. 

Neville stared at him a few seconds longer, it seemed he was trying to decide if he should say anything further, before going silently back to his own work. 

They had the first floor to themselves for a while and they worked silently, first replacing the tiles in the kitchen, then repairing the dining room table, which had been knocked over and the legs kicked clean off. 

By the time they headed upstairs, Kingsley, Hestia and Dedalus were in Harry’s old bedroom. “Harry,” Kingsley called. 

Harry and Neville ducked into his old bedroom first. It was destroyed. The spellbooks he’d left were torn and pages fluttered around the room, holes blown into the walls, his quidditch uniform was stuffed and hanging from the ceiling and had clearly been burned in effigy. On the walls, however, were warnings, 

_ Potter will die.  _

_ Muggles and mudbloods be warned: Magic is MIGHT. _

_ The Dark Lord rises.  _

That last one included a drawing of the dark mark. Every single eye, including those of Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley, were all on Harry. He didn’t quite know what to think, what to feel about this. He scratched the side of his neck, “Yeah well. They quite wanted me dead, right?”

“Is this mess going to be cleaned?” Vernon roared. “What is that written in, on the walls?”

Hestia leaned in to look, “It appears to be dragon’s blood.”

“Dra- Dragon’s blood?” Vernon’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Boy, this had better be cleaned up. I’m not living in a house soaked in dragon’s blood.”

Harry felt very small, and very young again. It had been nearly a year since anyone had spoken to him like that. A lot had happened in that year, not the least of which included him solving the horcrux mystery, dying, coming back to life and defeating the darkest wizard of all time. So being patronized by Vernon Dursley did not sit well with him. 

Dudley could see that Harry was a timebomb waiting to explode and was slowly backing out of the room.  __ Harry noticed it, and couldn’t help but think wryly that maybe Dudley had grown some brains this past year. 

“Has this room been checked for dark magic?” Harry asked Kingsley. His hands were visibly shaking in anger, and he was working his hardest to keep his voice under control. 

“Not yet,” Kingsley said slowly. “Do you need to go outside to gather yourself Harry?”

“Huh?” Harry asked. “No. No. I’m not going to gather myself, but I am going to leave this room exactly like it is and let him,” he pointed his wand at Vernon, “deal with it."

He turned and stalked out of the room full of shocked faces. Neville slipped out behind him and grabbed his shoulder. “Harry.” 

Harry pulled his shoulder out of Neville’s grip. “I’m fine,” he snapped. 

“You are not fine,” Neville said. 

Harry rounded on Neville, ready for an argument, when Dudley interrupted. “Harry?”

Harry glared at Neville and stepped into Dudley’s room. His room hadn’t been tampered with at all. The large bed sat against the wall, unbroken. The shelves that lined the wall were in perfect condition, a little dusty, but intact. Dudley had his closet open and was staring at the contents. It was chock-full of electronics. Video-game consoles, two computers, RC cars, hand-held gaming devices, you name it, Dudley had it. “Yeah?” Harry asked, somewhat rudely. 

“I, uh…” he drifted off. “I wondered if you wanted some of this stuff.”

“Why?” Harry demanded. Neville placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, which Harry was quick to shove off again. 

Dudley looked a little frightened and confused. “I dunno,” he shrugged. “I didn’t need any of it this past year and I didn’t really miss it. So…” he shrugged again. 

Harry took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow down. Dudley didn’t do anything; his anger was at Uncle Vernon. “No,” he said, trying to sound less snappy. “No, you keep it or donate it or sell it if you don’t want it.”

Dudley nodded. He looked very much like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of what to say. Finally he just said, “Thanks.” As Harry began to stalk out of the room, Dudley quietly added, “For everything.”

Harry turned, “What?”

Dudley’s face was beet-red. “I don’t think we would have lived if you hadn’t been willing to have Dedalus and Hestia hide us.”

“No,” Harry agreed, “You wouldn’t have.”

The color in Dudley’s face remained bright. “So...uh….I just wanted to thank you. And for that thing with those Dementors a few years back.”

Harry didn’t know what to think. The last time he’d heard so many words out of Dudley’s mouth, they’d been abusive. But, Harry noted, that was years ago. And maybe, just  _ maybe _ , Dudley was getting out from Vernon’s terrible example. Maybe Hestia and Dedalus had been good to Dudley despite the obvious trouble Vernon had given them. 

And it wasn’t that Harry could just up and forgive all the years of bullying and torment at the hands of Dudley Dursley, because he couldn’t. But he could imagine Dudley outgrowing his bullying ways and becoming, against all odds, a decent human being. 

“It’s fine, Dudley,” Harry said. “Really.”

Harry walked back into the hallway. “I think I need to get out of here,” he said to Neville. 

“Yeah,” Neville agreed, and placed his hand at the small of Harry’s back and guided him down the stairs. 

In the back garden, Harry took great gulping breaths. His heart rate felt erratic, and, despite any kindness by Dudley back in the house, he still felt a strong urge to hex Uncle Vernon six ways from Sunday. 

“Breathe,” Neville instructed him. “In the nose, out the mouth.”

Harry looked at Neville, tried to follow his instructions, but ended up laughing instead. “Sorry,” he said, chuckling. “Hermione always tried to do breathing techniques with me.”

“Did it work?”

“Nope,” Harry shook his head. 

“Ah, well,” Neville shrugged. “Parvati taught breathing techniques in the Room of Requirement. It seemed to work for most people.”

“I wish,” Harry murmured. 

At that moment, they were joined by Kingsley, who walked toward them with a concerned look on his face. “Harry. Are you all right?”

“Better now that I’m outside.”

Kingsley looked at Harry critically. “You remember our discussion a few weeks ago?”

“Yes,” Harry answered. 

“You remember I told you that if you were having trouble controlling your impulses, your invitation to skip seventh year at Hogwarts and head straight to Auror Training would be rescinded?”

“Yes, but I-”

Kingsley cut him off, “I don’t want to hear about this. I’ll be in contact with Molly.”

“Er...well, I’m not actually staying at the Burrow anymore.”

“What?” Neville and Kingsley both turned to Harry in shock.

“Yeah,” Harry shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back and forth. “Ron and Hermione are leaving for Australia, you know to put her parents’ memories back. And there’s this….weirdness with Ginny.” Harry shrugged, “So. I’ve moved on.”

“And where are you staying?” Kingsley asked suspiciously. 

Harry blushed a little, “My house. You know, Grimmauld Place.”

Kingsley gave Harry a look that Neville wasn’t quite able to read. “I thought we also talked about you not living alone yet.”

“Right, about that. See, I’m of age now and I have a house, so I thought I’d like to live there. Kreacher’s there with me.”

“And your…” Kingsley glanced at Neville, unsure whether to go on in front of him. “Nightmares? Your moods?”

“I don’t need a nanny,” Harry said. 

“I know you don’t. I just think you need some company. Come stay with me and my wife-”

Harry cut him off, “No.” he said flatly. 

“You can stay with me,” Neville volunteered. “Gran and I have a third bedroom, and she likes you, Harry.”

Harry cocked his head and looked at Neville. He took a few moments to appraise him, and wonder why Neville seemed so eager for the job of babysitting Harry. And the truth was that Harry  _ hated _ living alone. All those months in close quarters with Hermione and Ron had gotten him used to constant company. He thought, upon moving in to Grimmauld Place, that he’d like living by himself. But it didn’t happen. Kreacher was of no comfort when he had yet another nightmare. 

“Okay,” Harry finally agreed. “If it’s all right with Gran. But I’m working at Grimmauld Place, right? I’m trying to clean it out and make it livable. So I won’t be hanging around all day.”

“I could help,” Neville said. “I don’t mind.”

Kingsley looked between the two of them. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Neville nodded. “Gran really won’t mind.” 

“Go,” Kingsley instructed them. “Dedalus, Hestia and I will finish up here.”

“You sure?” Harry asked. He felt calmer. 

“I’m sure. Thanks for coming, Longbottom.”

As Harry and Neville walked down Privet Drive toward the bus stop, Neville asked, “So what’s with leaving the Weasley’s?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Things are uncomfortable with Ginny. I would have been a third wheel going to Australia with Ron and Hermione. So…” he drifted off. “I left.”

“How’d Mrs. Weasley take it.”

“Ugh,” Harry rubbed his forehead. “I’m actually surprised she didn’t immediately run to Kingsley and tell him. I was sure he must know. They’re both treating me like a kid.”

“Hmm,” Neville was silent for a moment. He’d noticed that Harry had given in quite easily on living with him. “How’s 12 Grimmauld Place working out?”

“I don’t really want to live by myself,” Harry said. It sounded like he didn’t want to admit it. “The Burrow had gotten uncomfortable, but I didn’t have nearly as many nightmares there as I do at Grimmauld Place.”

“I have them too,” Neville said. “Lavender, especially. I keep seeing her falling from that balcony, getting attacked-” his voice broke. 

“You know she lived, right?” Harry asked gently.

Neville stopped walking. “What?” he asked. “What? How’s that possible?”

“Lavender. She’s in St. Mungo’s. She’s a werewolf, and she needs a wheelchair, but she’s alive.”

“Have you seen her?” Neville asked. 

“Yes,” Harry said. He smiled, “Blimey, I like being the bearer of good news. I’ve visited her a couple times. She’s in really good spirits. You can stop having nightmares about her.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Neville was holding his chest. “I don’t know why. It was seeing her die, or so I thought, that bothered me more than anyone else.”

They got to the bus stop and waited for a few silent moments, while Neville basked in the good news. “Anyway,” he said as they saw the bus coming up the street. “I’m glad you’re staying with us. We can go to Hogwarts together for our seventh year re-do.”

“I’m not doing it,” Harry shook his head. “I’m starting Auror training in October.”

“Nah, you should come back,” Neville insisted. “There’s loads of classes you missed out on that you’ll need for auror training.”

“I don’t think I could go back.”

“Why not?” Neville pressed. 

Harry started to feel agitated again. “I dunno. Maybe because I spent the last year doing shit that was far beyond my years. I don’t especially feel like going back to having my whereabouts monitored by McGonagall.”

“You should go,” Neville said. 

“No,” Harry said forcefully. 

“Just hear me out, right? Gran is friends with McGonagall. There’s going to be a whole separate set of rules for eighth years, like open borders to Hogsmeade, our own dormitory, special classes based on what we did last year and us being able to have a say in our schedules. They want us, our class, to be the leaders in school. We’re going to be, like, half-teachers half-students. 

“I don’t know if I can,” Harry said quietly. “I didn’t exactly have a blast my last time in the castle.”

“No one did,” Neville persisted. “Just think about it.”

“Sure,” Harry said dismissively, trying to get Neville off the subject. “I’ll think about it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expect I will be updating about once a week. I'm about 3/4 of the way through writing this, but I'm just going back and editing chapter by chapter. 
> 
> If you are also reading my Harry Potter/Check Please crossover (That Kid Can Fly), fear not. I haven't abandoned it. I just hit a MAJOR writing block, so I decided to pull out this very old fic that I started working on a couple years ago to try to get the juices flowing again.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry eased into life at Neville’s house. Mrs. Longbottom had been, as Neville predicted, perfectly happy to let Harry Potter move in with her for the time being. While Mrs. Longbottom wasn’t nearly as warm and effusive as Mrs. Weasley, she was also not as nosy and overbearing. Mrs. Longbottom for the most part would ask Harry polite questions over meals and provided him everything he needed, but stayed out of his and Neville’s way. 

Harry continued to have nightmares. Neville’s bedroom was across the hallway and he’d hear Harry shout out, and he’d come running, wake Harry up and calm him down. Harry was a little embarrassed, but Neville insisted that he, too, had nightmares. He just was paralyzed in them and couldn’t even make himself shout out. Neville was being honest, but even if he hadn’t, it made Harry feel better to hear it. 

In their back garden, Neville showed Harry his greenhouse. It was a tiny greenhouse, no more than five feet by five feet made from materials you would find in any muggle hardware store. But this was a wizarding household, so when Harry walked in, he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was to find the greenhouse enlarged to five times its outside size. 

Harry loved to sit in the greenhouse while Neville was working. He would help sometimes, but he got the feeling that he was doing things wrong and Neville was just being polite by allowing him in there. Mostly, he’d sit on a tall stool and watch. He’d anxiously look forward to the moment Neville would get hot and he’d slip out of his shirt. Harry loved to watch Neville shirtless, loved to see the muscles on his back working as he pulled plants and hauled dirt. Then he would feel guilty at ogling Neville, but not guilty enough to stop. 

Harry didn’t even know what this ogling made him. Gay? Bisexual? Curious? Not gay, because he’d definitely been in to Ginny and even though they’d never officially had sex, they’d gotten close and he’d wanted to. Maybe bisexual, maybe just curious. Or maybe, Harry decided, he didn’t have to have a name for what he was. 

“Was there a lot of shagging in the room of requirement last year?” Harry asked suddenly one day right after Neville had taken off his shirt. He couldn’t help it, as soon as Harry’d get a glimpse of the trail of hair leading from Neville’s bellybutton down the front of his pants, he’d have sex on the brain. 

Neville laughed, “What?”

Harry shrugged, “It was a stressful year, right? Did you guys reduce stress by making out?”

Neville stopped working and looked at Harry, “Um….” he glanced at the ceiling. “Yes, there was some snogging. And some shagging, but I’m not saying who did what because that’s none of your business.”

“How about you?”

“Well,” Neville hesitated. “What about you first?”

“I was out with Hermione and Ron last year,” Harry answered. “I was a perfect gentleman with both of them.”

“What about Ginny in sixth year?”

“Some snogging, no shagging,” Harry answered. 

“Fine,” Neville said. “I was _ not _ a perfect gentleman last year in the room of requirement. I snogged Hannah Abbott, then regretted it and two days later shagged Anthony Goldstein.” 

“You shagged Anthony Goldstein?” Harry asked in disbelief. 

Neville shrugged and grinned, “Don’t tell me it bothers you I’m gay.”

Harry grinned, “Nope. I hope it makes it way less weird that I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the day after the battle.”

Neville put the pot he was holding down on the nearest table. “Really?” He said it, like he was sure Harry was lying. 

“Yeah,” Harry said, he was smiling. He could tell by the way Neville was looking at him that he was going to be kissed any second. 

“Er…” Neville grinned and scratched his chin. “All right then.” He walked over to Harry and placed his lips gently on Harry’s. 

It was a nice kiss. Harry smiled into it as he pulled Neville closer, so Neville was standing between his knees. Neville had his arms around Harry’s shoulders and Harry stroked Neville’s back.

It was good. There was an electricity between them that they both felt, and kissing in the greenhouse felt right. It was the calmest and happiest Harry had felt in several weeks. Hell, in over a year. 

Neville was a good kisser. He kissed like he meant it, without being overpowering. Harry melted into the kiss, happy to let Neville take the lead. Neville lowered his hands down Harry’s arms then up his chest. He slipped one hand up the front of Harry’s shirt and lightly petted his chest, thumbnail skating over the nipple. 

Harry sucked in his breath quickly. This felt amazing, it’d been so long since Harry felt this content, this  _ relaxed.  _

Until a massive wave of anxiety washed over him. 

Harry stiffened in Neville’s arms and opened his eyes. Neville immediately pulled back, “What?” 

Harry’s heart began hammering in his chest, and his palms started sweating. He found himself unable to breathe correctly and took great gulping breaths trying to calm himself down. 

“Hey,” Neville said, “Hey,” he hugged Harry. “It’s OK. We don’t have to do that again.”

Harry shook his head, unable to speak for a few minutes. “”Let’s do some of the breathing patterns,” Neville suggested. “In….” he said, as he took a long slow breath in, “And out,” he continued helping Harry breathe out. He repeated himself a few more times, “In….and out. In….and out.” 

Finally Harry felt himself growing calmer, “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re having a panic attack,” Neville said. “You don’t need to be sorry. We don’t have to do that again.” 

“The kissing?” 

“No if it’s going to give you anxiety. I’ll never touch you again, if it’ll help you.” 

“That’s...not,” Harry stammered. “No, that’s not what I want. I liked kissing you. It’s just, whenever I get these feelings of happiness, I forget everything that’s happened in the last year for, like, a couple minutes. And when I’m not thinking about it for a couple minutes, I feel guilty.” 

“You feel guilty?” 

“Yes.” 

Neville put his arms around Harry and pulled him close. He planted a chaste kiss on the top of Harry’s head. “Blimey, Harry. You saved the entire damn world last year and you feel guilty.” 

“I could have done better,” Harry said dully. “I could have done more, quicker, and fewer people would have died.”

“Or you could have gone into hiding and left the wizarding world to deal with Voldemort without you. And a lot  _ more _ people would have died.”

Harry shrugged, his head buried in Neville’s chest. 

“Don’t shrug me off, please,” Neville begged. “Harry, you’re going to need time to work through everything that happened last year. We all are. But I won’t be able to live with myself if I can’t make you see that the outcome of last May - Voldemort’s defeat -  was your doing. The damage that happened on the way to that outcome? All those deaths and the destruction of the castle? That belongs to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. One hundred percent.”

Harry looked up at Neville, tears wavering in his eyes. “It was you, too. You helped defeat him.”

“I cut the head off a snake,” Neville said dismissively. 

“And I did a simple expelliarmus. And Ron stabbed a necklace, and pretended to be a parseltongue so that Hermione could stab a cup.” 

“And it all added up, eh? And we’re all wishing we could go back and do more. ” Neville said. He cupped Harry’s head in his hands and brought his face closer for a small kiss on the lips. “And if you think you aren’t ready for this, that is fine with me. We don’t have to kiss anymore. We can be friends and pretend we never kissed at all.” 

“I don’t really want that,” Harry admitted. 

Neville smiled, “Nor do I.” 

“So are we…?” Harry drifted off. 

“Are we gonna do this?” Neville asked, leaning in for another kiss. Harry kissed back enthusiastically. 

“Yeah,” Harry breathed a few moments later when he broke the kiss. 

“Tell me,” Neville said. “Promise you’ll tell me if this doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to send you into another panic attack.” 

“I will,” Harry promised. 

“You deserve things that will make you happy,” Neville said. 

 

_____

 

For the most part, Harry became happier as the days wore on. He still had one nightmare every night, but now Neville would crawl into bed with him and they’d make out until they both fell back to sleep. 

Harry and Neville travelled to Gimmauld Place a couple of times over the next week. Harry was still working on cleaning the old place up. Going through Black family items, trying to store them and generally make it more liveable. 

But their work was interrupted by their constant desire to kiss and touch each other.  ne rather hot and heavy snogging session was interrupted by a lecture from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, making Harry rue the day he’d taken the portrait out from Hermione’s handbag and put it back in Grimmauld Place. At least Kreacher knew to stay out of their way when the door was shut. 

Still, his happiness was always tempered by, if not actual panic attacks, then a feeling of generalized anxiety about whether or not he deserved to feel good. Neville always assured him that he did. 

____   
  


Augusta Longbottom was having trouble sleeping. She’d taken to waiting for Harry Potter to have his nightly nightmare and screaming out before she could fall asleep. Augusta slept in the large attic, converted into her bedroom, and would open her door and listen as Neville would pad across the hall to comfort his friend. It filled her with a sort of pride to know how good a friend Neville could be. He was very like his father. 

But on this particular night, she wasn’t able to fall asleep after hearing Harry cry out. She tossed and turned for nearly a half hour, before deciding to give up and go have a brandy to help her fall asleep. She was getting old, and the ancient steep staircase going up to the attic would probably start giving her problems soon. But for now, she was still able to tiptoe quietly and hopefully not disturb the boys. 

At the foot of the stairs, she should have turned right to get to the kitchen, but instead she noticed to the left that Neville’s and Harry’s bedroom doors were both open and a flicker of candlelight was clear from her vantage point. 

She carefully padded down the hall and noticed first that Neville’s room was empty. She craned her neck and could just see into Harry’s room, where the door had been left ajar. She could just see the bed and was shocked to see Neville lying there with Harry. Not just lying  _ in _ bed with him, Neville was lying atop Harry and they were kissing passionately, Neville’s hand clearly down Potter’s pajama pants. 

Augusta’s first instinct was to put a stop to this. She took a step forward, arm reached out to swing the door wide and get Neville back into his room and lecture them both about appropriate behavior in her house. 

But she stopped. And she thought. 

Neville and Harry were eighteen year old men. When she was eighteen, she’d finished her seventh year at Hogwarts, then left for the continent where she spent the next ten years working as an assistant to the most famous magical portraitist in Europe. It was a decade of booze and satisfying sexual appetites. She and the artist traveled from city to city, village to village, painting famous wizards. And in each one of those cities, Augusta had taken a lover. In Barcelona, her lover had been a woman, though she never considered herself a sapphist. 

Harry and Neville, she realized, had just had a very traumatic year. They were far more mature at eighteen than she had been. They were war heroes. And if two young war heroes wanted to have sex, why  _ should _ an old grandmother put a stop to it? 

Besides which, there were far worse witches and wizards out there that Neville could have ended up with than Harry Potter. 

She made her way quietly to the kitchen, where she drank a large brandy in contemplation. Then she went back upstairs to bed and slept soundly. 

The next morning, Augusta said nothing to Harry and Neville, though she noticed more now how they grinned at each other. How Neville’s eyes tracked Harry as he stood up to get more pumpkin juice. How Harry ran his hands over Neville’s shoulders as he sat back down at the table, and how he scooted his chair just an inch or two closer to Neville’s.

An owl tapped at the window and Augusta got up to let him in. It was a tiny brown thing and it flew right to Harry. “Pigwidgeon!” He said happily, holding his hand out. Pigwidgeon landed in his hand and Harry patted its head before untying the small note attached to the owl’s leg. He read it and looked at Neville. “Ron and Hermione are back,” he said. “They want me to come for dinner tonight.” 

“Alright,” Neville said. 

Harry hesitated. “Should I write back that you’re coming too?”

“No,” Neville said quickly. “No, please don’t. You go, and tell me how they’re doing.”

“But,” Harry began, then looked quickly at Gran and back at Neville. He clearly wanted to say something but didn’t want to say it in front of Gran. Gran noticed and excused herself, and shuffled out of the kitchen. 

“What?” Neville asked. 

“Why don’t you come?”

“I want you to go by yourself. I think you need to get over any awkwardness with Ginny and I shouldn’t be there for that. If I’m there, you’ll just avoid her.”

“No, I won’t,” Harry insisted. 

Neville snorted, “Harry. You left the Burrow and went to live at 12 Grimmauld Place just to avoid being awkward with Ginny.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and said nothing. But he knew Neville was right. 

That afternoon, Harry left Neville and his Gran making dinner in the kitchen and he flooed over to The Burrow. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Harry!” Molly called happily as Harry stepped out of The Burrow’s fireplace. She enveloped him in a big hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  Harry had to admit, it felt good to be mothered like that. As nice as Neville’s Gran had been to him, she was certainly not affectionate. “How is it at the Longbottom’s?” Molly asked. 

Harry was afraid she was going to press him for details about why he left The Burrow and then why he left Grimmauld Place, but she didn’t. Harry was grateful for it. “It’s good,” he answered. 

“Well,” Molly said, patting his cheek. “Ron and Hermione are upstairs, I think they’re still unpacking. We’ll be having dinner in a couple hours. Bill and Fleur are coming tonight.”

“Great,” Harry said as he ducked out of Molly’s way, and headed up the stairs. He tiptoed quietly past Ginny’s door, which was shut. No reason to get into anything yet. He made it up to Ron’s room, where the door was cracked. He could hear Ron’s and Hermione’s voices. He knocked on the door as he opened it. “Hi,” he said.

Hermione rushed to him and grabbed him in a hug even tighter than the one Molly Weasley had just given him. When she pulled back, Ron was standing there with a grin on his face and even he leaned in for a small hug. “Why’d you leave?” he asked, his voice sounding accusatory, though his face appearing happy to see him.

“Er…” Harry said. “With you two gone, it got a bit awkward with, you know, Ginny.” He laughed weakly. 

Hermione looked crushed, “I thought you two might make up while we were gone.”

“There’s nothing to make up  _ for _ ,” Harry pointed out. “It’s not like we had a row. We just…” he shrugged, “We just don’t fit together well anymore.”

“Maybe later,” Ron said, seemingly more to comfort Hermione than Ron. 

“Right,” Hermione nodded. “You guys just need some separate time to deal with all of last year.”

“Sure,” Harry said uneasily then changing the subject. “Anyway, tell me about Australia.” 

Hermione and Ron both perked up at the change in subject. “It worked out really well,” Hermione said, “Better than I expected, honestly.” And Harry listened to the unbelievable story of slowly making their way to Australia, first by several strategic portkeys, then travel on a muggle airplane, which terrified Ron. They got there, and found Hermione’s parents. She slowly brought back their memories. It was painful, because they were really angry at first. But as Ron and Hermione explained what had happened the year before, they became slightly mollified and even a little grateful that they were still alive. The four of them even took a passenger ride on the Trans-Australian Railway for several days as a family trip. 

All in all, Ron and Hermione were there for over a month to give Hermione a chance to reconnect with her parents. And she was happy to report that her parents were planning on returning to Britain once they got everything settled in Australia. 

Harry was happier than ever that he’d insisted those two go without him. He figured they needed time without him in their hair, and he would have been an interloper. Ron and Hermione seemed so comfortable with one another, as though they had been together for years, and not just a couple months.

After a long talk, Molly called them down to dinner. The three of them clambered down the stairs into the kitchen. Molly and Arthur were at the stove, while Ginny and Percy were setting dishes out on the long table. Bill and Fleur were just coming into the kitchen from the living room. 

Harry gave Ginny a small awkward smile as he slid into his seat at the table between Ron and Bill. Ginny returned the smile and sat on the other end of the table, as far as possible from Harry. Hermione looked on with interest. 

Hermione and Ron repeated much of their story about Australia for the rest of the family. Then Bill made a very important announcement, “I’ve been offered the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. Gringotts is giving me a year’s leave of absence to try it out.” 

“Bill!” Molly shrieked. “That’s wonderful.”

“I dunno” Ron said. “That position is cursed. You sure you want it?”

Bill and Fleur gave Ron a shared dirty look. Hermione rolled her eyes “Oh, honestly, Ron.” 

“Anyway,” Bill continued, “The Eighth Year students,” he nodded his head toward Harry, Ron and Hermione, “Are being given specialized schedules, and other leadership opportunities at the school. And I want you three to be my special DADA assistant teachers.”

“Us?” Hermione asked, sounding thrilled at the chance to be an actual authority figure. 

“Of course,” Bill nodded. “I think I could learn just as much from you guys as you can from me.”

“Harry’s not going back,” Ron said bluntly. “He’s going into auror training in October.”

“Well,” Harry said quietly. “I haven’t entirely decided.” As soon as he said it, he realized he didn’t want to leave Neville, and Neville was committed to returning to Hogwarts for a year.

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry curiously, “What made you change your mind?” Ron asked. 

Harry shrugged, “Something Kingsley said,” he lied. “About me needed to be more ready, like, emotionally or whatever for auror training.” Hermione got an understanding look on her face immediately. She knew about Harry’s nightmares, and when Ron began to question him further, Hermione shushed him with a hand on his thigh and a small shake of her head.

“Well, if you decide to come back,” Bill said, “You’ve got a position. Even if you don’t, I’d like to pick your brain in the next few weeks before school starts. Figure out what types of things I should be teaching to which years. Your time in Dumbledore’s Army could be a real help to me.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed. 

After dinner, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the living room with Bill and Fleur. They were drinking firewhiskey to celebrate Ron and Hermione’s return, as well as Bill’s new position. Molly and Arthur were even letting Ginny participate. Harry guessed that fighting in a war had proved Ginny’s strength to her parents and that they were being more permissive. Harry missed seeing George, and Bill told him quietly that George had been isolating himself a little bit and that Molly and Arthur were both worried about him. He basically worked in the joke shop then would go back to his flat by himself and stay there the rest of the days and nights. 

Percy, on the other hand, had moved back into The Burrow and rarely wanted to be out of the company of his family and wasn’t even trying to find another job. Ron had already expressed how worried he was what would happen to Percy when he and Ginny went back to school and Percy would have long days at home alone with Molly. “That’ll get him back to work right quick, though I suppose,” Ron added. 

Harry didn’t mean to, but he got drunk on the firewhiskey. He sent a note with Pigwidgeon to Neville and told him he was staying the night at the Burrow. 

Harry wasn’t used to sleeping drunk. He tossed and turned for hours. He was in Bill and Charlie’s room by himself, deciding to give Ron and Hermione their own space. He flopped around in bed, went to the bathroom several times, tried counting sheep, before finally decided to just get up and get a snack. 

He tiptoed to the kitchen and was surprised to see someone else bent over the ice box. Ginny popped her head up when she heard him enter. “Harry!” she said. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi,” Harry said, sliding into a chair at the table. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I think I drank too much,” she admitted. Her voice was slightly slurred. 

“Me too,” he admitted ruefully and they both laughed. Maybe all they needed was a little alcohol to lubricate the conversation to make things less awkward between them. 

Ginny held up some leftover cherry pie, “Want to split some dessert?”

“Absolutely,” Harry nodded. 

Ginny grabbed a couple forks and set the entire pie plate between them. She also got the half bottle of firewhiskey left and poured them each a shot. They dug in and were silent for a few moments. “How is it at Neville’s?” Ginny asked. 

“Good,” Harry said. 

“Neville doing all right?”

“Oh yeah. Working in his greenhouse, you know.”

“Mmm,” Ginny nodded. “And you?”

“I go to Grimmauld Place now and then. Trying to clean it out a little. Neville lets me work in his greenhouse with him sometimes.”

“He does not,” Ginny laughed. Neville was notoriously protective of his plants. 

“Well, a little bit sometimes. Mostly I watch him.”

Ginny laughed again. 

In his inebriated state, Harry decided it would be a good idea to tell Ginny the truth. He took a shot of firewhiskey for courage, cleared his throat and said, “I’m sleeping with him.” 

Ginny paused, a forkful of pie halfway to her mouth. The weight of Harry’s confession hung in front of them for several painful moments. She put the fork down, but then after a moment picked it up and took the bite of pie. “Well, that’s just fabulous,” she said bitterly. 

“It just happened,” Harry said. 

“It just happened?” Ginny said, louder this time. “My ex-boyfriend just slipped and accidentally fell into my best friend?”

Harry cringed. He hadn’t thought of it that way. God, he was Ginny’s ex, Neville was her best friend. Of  _ course _ she was going to be mad. “I’m sorry.”

“Not sorry enough to stop though,” she said. 

“No,” Harry agreed. Because already his feelings for Neville were stronger than they ever had been for Ginny. He’d really liked Ginny at one point. He  _ still _ really liked her, but he no longer wanted to snog her in deserted corners, he no longer had the urge to sniff her hair, or spend countless hours with her. Those were all feelings he had for Neville now. But even moreso because the idea of spending the next year without Neville seemed absolutely impossible, where one year ago he’d had very little issue leaving Ginny. 

“God,” Ginny spat. She reached for her firewhiskey, Harry jumped back at first thinking she was going for her wand. “You know I wondered why Neville never made a move with me last year. I would have kissed him back if he had. Then one night right before Spring Break I saw him and Anthony Goldstein sneaking off in the Room of Requirement. And I knew they were making out because Anthony is…..you know.”

“I know,” Harry nodded. Anthony Goldstein, very smart and very kind, was also incredibly flamboyant. The type of guy you’d meet and just assume (correctly) was gay. “Did he ever come out to you?”

“Neville?” Ginny asked and shook her head, “No. I was kind of disappointed because we were so close. Maybe if I’d gone back to Hogwarts after spring break, but I was holed up at Auntie Muriel’s.” Ginny paused, “And anyway. I had you, my gay boyfriend who  _ also _ never told me he’s gay.”

Harry almost corrected her, almost told her he thought he might be bisexual, but he couldn’t see how that would make her feel any better, so he just said, “Sorry,” again. 

“I get it, that this isn’t about me,” Ginny said, after another shot of firewhiskey. She was getting even louder and drunker as the seconds wore on. “But it doesn’t feel very good, does it?” Tears sprang to her eyes. 

“Ginny,” Harry got out of his seat and scooted next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Gin, don’t cry. This doesn’t have to change anything. Neville’s still your best friend.  _ I’m  _ your friend too. We’ll all be in the Gryffindor common room together next year and we won’t have to worry about horcruxes or the chamber of secrets or escaped death eaters. We can have a nice normal school year.”

“You’ve already decided, haven’t you? You’re going back to Hogwarts because he’s going back, right?”

Harry paused, because he just realized what he’d said. “Yes,” he said. “I’m going back to be with Neville.”

“Awesome,” Ginny said “Really just terrific news.”

“Well, You don’t need to be sarcastic about it.”

“No, I suppose I could use the bat-bogey hex,” Ginny said and she started crying. 

“Gin,” Harry said, quietly. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“I just had a….. _ shit _ summer. One of my brothers is dead and the other one won’t come around and you ran off and I couldn’t lean on you, and Ron and Hermione went jaunting off to Australia and Mum is being mum and I can’t  _ talk _ to her because she’ll think I’m weak and won’t want to let me go back to Hogwarts-”

Harry interrupted, “God, Ginny, come here.” She stood up and Harry enveloped her in a hug while Ginny cried into his chest. “Talk to me. If you don’t have anyone to talk to, I’m here and Neville’s here and there’s nothing that Nev and I are doing that will come between that. Right?” 

Ginny nodded, but she didn’t say anything. Finally her crying slowed to a hiccup and Harry spoke up again. “Do you want to hear about my nightmares?” he asked. 

Ginny looked up at Harry. “You’re getting nightmares?”

“Let’s sit,” Harry said, and they sat together at the table. “Always. Every night. Sleep is just...it’s awful for me because I have very realistic nightmares and people are always dying in my dreams.”

“Who?” Ginny asked. 

“Everyone,” Harry shrugged. “Everyone I love and care about. You, a lot. Your brothers, your parents. Hermione, Neville, Dean, Seamus. And then there are the dreams where I have to watch people I know are dead die all over again. Sirius and Remus….Fred,” Harry added. 

“I sleep all the time,” Ginny admitted. “I don’t dream and it’s like sleep is the only reprieve I get from not thinking about Fred. Everyone’s trying to go on like it’s all normal, and I try to but it doesn’t feel right.” 

Harry frowned a little at Ginny. The bottle of firewhiskey was empty and they were both very drunk, but it had turned from an anger-fueled drunkenness to a maudlin one. “What do you need?”

Ginny shrugged, “I just want someone to talk about how it sucks. And who cares that life goes on if it sucks so bad.” 

“Maybe you should go visit George?” Harry suggested. 

Ginny looked up, her eyes wet and shiny. “Why?”

Harry shrugged, “To talk to him. I bet he wants to talk to someone but feels overwhelmed coming home to Molly and Arthur and You and Percy and Ron and Hermione…” 

Ginny nodded. She and Harry continued to talk out their feelings for another hour, after which Harry felt both lighter and heavier. His own emotions seemed better, but now he felt the weight of Ginny’s. 

As he and Ginny stood from the table, ready to head up to bed, a sleepy-eyed, bed-headed Ron came into the kitchen. “What’s goin’ on here?” he asked.

“What’re you doing up?” Harry asked. 

Ron shrugged, “I was dreaming about that cherry pie,” he said. “I wanted to come finish it.”

Harry and Ginny looked at each other and grinned, “Too late,” Ginny said, pointing to the empty pie plate she’d just put in the sink. 

Ron frowned, “What were you guys doing?” Then he shook his head and woke a little more, “Hey, what  _ were _ you guys doing?” Ron looked at Harry, and Harry knew at once that Ron thought maybe he and Ginny were up snogging.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry explained, quickly. “I came down here and Ginny was here and we ate the pie.”

“Ron,” Ginny slurred, slugging Ron in the arm. “You could have at least told me about Harry and Neville, so I wouldn’t be so surprised.”

“Huh?” Ron asked stupidly, while Harry’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head slightly at Ginny. 

“You know-” she broke off, noticing Harry’s reaction, and her eyes grew even wider than Harry’s as they met his. “Uh…..”

Ron looked between Harry and Ginny. “What’s going on? What’s this about Neville?” Ron asked. 

“Nothing,” Ginny said quickly. “Nothing. I’m tired, I’m going to bed.” She scurried out of the room, but doubled back and said to Ron, “I’m also, pretty drunk right now, so just forget anything I said.”

Ron looked at Harry questioningly. “She’s drunk,” Harry assured him. 

“What’s this about Neville though?”

“Oh, that.” Harry said flatly. 

At once, he realized he and Neville had never actually discussed when they would out themselves and to whom. His coming out to Ginny may not have been all right with Neville, and his coming out to Ron might also not be OK. But still, he didn’t know what else to say. “Neville and I have….” he paused, “Gotten closer these last few weeks.”

“Yeah, well. Me and Hermione were gone, weren’t we?” Ron said. He was still looking at Harry with a hint of questions in his eyes. 

“Right.” Harry agreed. “Well, Neville and I have become more than friends.”

“More than friends?” Ron asked. He still seemed confused. Harry knew Ron wasn’t quite  _ this _ thick and decided to blame Ron’s confusion on tiredness and drunkenness. 

“Yes.” Harry said. “Like, we’ve been shagging. Like he’s my boyfriend.” 

Now it was time for Ron’s eyes to widen. He opened his mouth wide and put a hand in front of it. “Merlin’s balls!” he exclaimed. “You and Neville?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. 

Ron’s face turned red and Harry realized that behind his hand, he was laughing a little. “Blimey, Harry. Why’d you never tell me you’re bent?” He paused. “Sorry, is that an OK word to use? Bent?”

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “So you’re OK with this?”

Ron shrugged, “I’m kind of pissed you spent so much time leading my sister on when you’re gay.”

“I didn’t even know it about myself,” Harry explained. “Not until very recently anyway. And I’m not sure ‘gay’ is the right word for me.”

Ron guffawed. “Well, something about shagging Neville sure seems gay to me, mate.”

“Well, there’s this whole spectrum…” Harry drifted off. “You know? It’s fine,” he said. He was so pleased by Ron’s positive reaction that he didn’t have the energy to correct him about gay and bisexual. 

“Hermione has all these plans to try to get you and Ginny back together,” Ron warned him. 

“Well,” Harry said, chuckling a little. “That won’t work so well.”

“No kidding,” Ron said. “But it’s all right I tell her, yeah?   


“Sure,” Harry said, only because he knew Ron would tell her anyway. And Harry figured this was one less person he’d have to figure out how to tell. “Listen, I’m tired and I’m pretty drunk too, so I’m going to bed.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Ron asked, as Harry began walking out of the kitchen. 

Harry paused and turned around, “Talk about what?”

Ron shrugged, “Being gay. Neville.”

“Not really,” Harry said. “Not now anyway. Neville and I haven’t even had a conversation about who we’re telling and when. So,”

Ron nodded, “Talk to him. You shouldn’t have told me and Ginny without doing that first.” 

“I know,” Harry admitted, “But I think he’ll be OK with it.”


	5. Chapter 5

The next day they were hanging out in Neville’s greenhouse and Harry told him all about telling Ginny and Ron the night before. 

Neville shrugged it off, “Well, they were bound to find out sooner rather than later. And it’s not like I’m ashamed of us.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Harry pointed out. “But you know, Ginny wasn’t happy. Her ex-boyfriend and her best friend?”

Neville nodded in understanding. “I’ll make it right with her. I’m the one who should’ve told her in any case. Maybe I’ll ask her out for drinks at the Leaky this week.”

“She’d like that,” Harry agreed. “I think she’s feeling left out. Like, at Hogwarts it’ll be me and You and Ron and Hermione and she’ll be a fifth wheel.” 

Neville nodded, “Got it.” He paused and grinned, “Anyway. It was weird not sneaking into your room last night.”

“Right,” Harry laughed, “You probably got a decent night’s sleep for the first time in a while.”

Neville smirked, “Yeah, but I missed something else.” 

Harry grinned as Neville stepped to him and embraced him with a kiss. Harry kissed back, because he’d missed this the night before also. They were wrapped in each other so tightly and focused solely on each other that that didn’t hear the greenhouse door open. 

Gran coughed and Harry and Neville pushed away from each other quickly, faces beet red. Gran was standing there, looking unsurprised, and behind her was Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was looking rather amused, like he was trying to suppress a smile. 

“I….er….we..” Neville began, looking at his Gran with frightened eyes. 

Gran rolled her eyes impatiently and tsked. “I already knew about this.”

“You  _ did _ ?” Neville squeaked. 

“I’m old, I’m not blind.” 

Harry was shaken, but realized if Gran had already known, she wasn’t likely to kick him out of her house for defiling her grandson. Still, the first thing out of his mouth was, “I’m sorry."

Gran gave Harry an odd look, like she wasn’t sure why he was saying he was sorry. Harry, for that matter, didn’t really know what he had to be sorry for, except maybe creating the world’s most awkward moment. 

There was a moment of silence and finally Kingsley spoke up, “I came to speak with Harry.”

“Right,” Harry nodded, trying to get his face to stop feeling so flushed. He glanced at Neville, whose face was still bright red and looked horrified, before following Kingsley into the house and the sitting room. 

Kingsley sat on a chair and Harry sat on the couch across from him. Neville and Gran hovered around the doorway. “You’re welcome to sit in,” Kingsley said to them in his low cool voice. “This isn’t anything personal.” 

Gran took the other chair and while Neville hesitantly sat next to Harry on the couch, making sure to leave several inches between them. 

Kingsley cleared his throat, “Harry I came to talk to you about your admission to the Auror Training Program,” he pulled some parchment out of his robe pocket. “I have some forms I need you to fill out, and there’s a section I need to sign to acknowledge that you didn’t finish your Hogwarts training, and as Minister I’m allowing you to enter the program anyway.” 

“I -” Harry broke off, glancing at Neville. “I actually am rethinking that. I think I’ll go finish my eighth year at Hogwarts,” 

Kingsley leaned back in the chair and looked at Harry appreciatively. “What made you change your mind?”

“Well,” Harry and Neville shared a look. He let out a weak laugh as he slid closer to Neville and held his hand, “There’s this. And Bill Weasley is going to be the new Defense teacher and he asked for my help, with Ron and Hermione, in developing the curriculum.”

“Really?” Neville asked, “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah, well, we were talking about other things.” Harry smiled at him. “And I think maybe you’re right anyway. I should get my dreams and other things,” Harry couldn’t bring himself to say emotions, “under control before training.” 

“Well,” Kingsley nodded, “I’m very pleased with this news. I was a little hasty in offering early training to you, then I didn’t want to back out on our deal.” He turned to Gran, “Mrs. Longbottom, I think you’ve done Harry a great service by allowing him to stay with you.”

Gran looked pleased. “Thank you, Minister. It’s been no problem at all.” There was a short paused, “And I think it’s obvious Neville’s enjoyed it,” she added dryly. 

“Oh Merlin,” Neville said, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Harry coughed uncomfortably, but Kingsley laughed.

Kingsley asked Harry to walk him outside. “You don’t think Mrs. Longbottom is going to kick me out of her house?” Harry asked Kingsley as he trotted to keep up with Kingsley’s longer stride. 

“Whatever for?”

“For…” Harry drifted off and waved his hands in the direction of the greenhouse. “For me and Neville.”

Kingsley stopped and turned to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder, a reassuring gesture. “I’ve known Augusta Longbottom for over twenty years. She is many things, but she is  _ not  _ someone who would kick you out of house and home for being intimate with her grandson.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. 

Kingsley continued, “I just wanted to make certain you’re sure about returning to Hogwarts.”

“I am,” Harry nodded.

“All right,” Kingsley said. “I got word yesterday that Narcissa Malfoy is making Draco return. He’s the only Slytherin over fifth year who is returning. I know you and Draco aren’t exactly friendly-”

Harry snorted at the understatement of the year. “Yeah.”

Kingsley continued, “Though because you testified on behalf of Draco and Narcissa, I assume you don’t want him to rot in Azkaban.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry shrugged. “Narcissa particularly was helpful to me. And Draco? Well, it’s complicated.” 

Kingsley nodded. He knew exactly what Harry was referring to, Kingsley being one of the few people Harry, Ron and Hermione had sat down with to tell their entire story of the prior year. Kingsley knew about Narcissa’s lie to Voldemort. About Harry seeing Draco being used by Voldemort, and his attempts to lie about Harry’s identity, and his refusal to kill Dumbledore and the pain in his face when he realized he couldn’t do it. It  _ was _ complicated. Harry didn’t believe that Draco would have gotten the dark mark of his own volition. Draco was a coward and a bully to be sure. And cowards and bullies are one thing, but they aren’t murderers who belong in Azkaban. 

“I don’t think it’s going to be easy for Draco next year,” Kingsley said. “I’m not asking you to befriend the guy. But I’d like you to lead by example and treat him, at the very least, respectfully.”

Harry cringed. He may have failed divination, but he had no trouble seeing what was going to happen. Draco was going to be teased, at least, and bullied, at most, mercilessly. And while Harry wouldn’t take part in that, he sure didn’t feel like sticking his neck out for Draco fucking Malfoy of all people. Harry felt his ire raising, but knew he had to keep it in check in front of Kingsley. 

“He could be in danger,” Kingsley said seriously, sensing Harry’s hesitation. “I tried to talk Narcissa out of this, and Draco himself isn’t pleased with her plans. And Draco may be of age, but you know he’s certainly never learned how to stand up for himself to his parents. Narcissa believes that the key to redeeming the Malfoy name starts with Draco returning to Hogwarts and being a model citizen.”

“I’m not going to let anyone harm him,” Harry assured Kingsley. “I’ve already pulled him out of life-threatening situations. I’ll just….keep it up next year.” Harry knew he wouldn’t let Draco get harmed, unless maybe Hermione wanted to sock him in the face again for good measure. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t resent Kingsley asking this of him. This year should have been about him being Harry Potter, normal school boy. But already he was being asked to use his celebrity, him being the “Boy Who Lived” for a cause. And he wasn’t sure he liked it. 

Which is why, when he got back in the house and Neville asked what the Minister wanted, Harry just shrugged distractedly and didn’t tell him anything. 

_____

 

Though Harry was an adult and had just spent an entire year fighting an adults’ war, there was something that made him feel child-like in the home of Augusta Longbottom. Now that the secret, if it ever really was that, about him and Neville was out, Harry felt shy around Gran. In front of Gran, he’d show restraint in his friendliness toward Neville and absolutely refused to kiss Neville in the greenhouse any more for fear that she’d walk in on them again. Even at night, though Gran had insinuated it would be fine for them to share a room, Harry dutifully kept to his own room by himself, until Neville would sneak in sometime around one a.m.

That’s why Harry was relieved to get to Diagon Alley on 30 August. He and Neville rented a room -their  _ own shared _ room - at the Leaky for two nights. They were going to get their school supplies and have dinner with the Weasleys. Then they were able to go back to their room at the Leaky and have sex without worrying about Gran overhearing. 

Their first stop was Madame Malkins. All students had been ordered to get new robes. Their letters had indicated robes were being redone this year. Harry, Neville, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna all went together and were shocked that they were fitted with identical black robes with the Hogwarts crest. Luna did not get Ravenclaw Blue, and the others did not get Gryffindor Red. Harry, Neville, Ron and Hermione had an ‘8’ over their Hogwarts patches, Ginny and Luna a ‘7.’ 

That should have been the first sign that things would be different. The second sign should have come when the students arrived at the castle and went to the Great Hall and the house tables were no longer standing. Instead the room was filled with round tables of varying sizes, some seating only four, others twelve. The only tables reserved were those in the front for the first years, who were already there looking small and frightened. Harry looked around, confused, and grabbed a table for six before they filled up. They were four eighth years, two seventh years, all of them war heroes. They drew a fair amount of attention.

There was a lot of noise and confusion, but through it, Harry was able to wave hello to Hagrid, seated at the staff table at the front. Next to Hagrid was Bill Weasley, who smiled and nodded at their table as they all gave a small wave. Most of the rest of the teachers were the same. Professor Sprout, Slughorn, Sinistra, Vector, Flitwick. Even Trelawny was still there. There were a couple Harry didn’t recognize, he assumed it was the new Muggle Studies professor and possibly a new Transfiguration professor, if McGonagall wasn’t going to continue teaching while she was Headmistress. 

McGonagall stood and magically magnified her voice. “Settle down, please.” It took about three second for the room to go from a cacophony of laughter and voices to absolute silence. “Thank you.” She looked around the room and gave what was the most indulgent smile he’d ever seen from Minerva McGonagall. “Welcome to the new year, a  _ very _ new year, at Hogwarts.” 

The entire room broke out into raucous applause and whistles. McGonagall indulged the noise for quite a while, before holding her hands up to quiet everyone down. “I know we had an exceptionally difficult year last year, and all of the teachers are sensitive to that. We are going to try our hardest to honor our fallen staff and classmates from last year, while looking forward to a new era of magical education at Hogwarts. To that end, I must inform you of the biggest change this year.” She paused, looking around to make sure she had everyone’s fullest attention. “The Sorting Hat has been retired and we are no longer grouping students by House, but by year. The first through third years are in the old Hufflepuff rooms by the kitchens, and next week we will assign two Junior Prefects from third year to assist the first years. Professor Sprout will be your head of house. Fourth and Fifth years are in the former Gryffindor Tower, with Professor Flitwick as your head of house, Sixth and Seventh years are in the former Ravenclaw tower, with new professor Weasley, as your head of house. This year, we are graced with the presence of a handful of students considered Eighth years, and they will have accommodations in the room directly off the front entrance, across from Firenze’s divination classroom.  I will act as head of house for the eighth years.”

The low rumble that had begun at the start of McGonagall’s speech had worked itself into a roar. “You mean we’ll have to share space with  _ Slytherins?”  _ shouted one student. Harry and Hermione shared a concerned look. “What about Quidditch?” asked another student. 

McGonagall held her hands up for silence again. “There are no houses anymore. You will not be sharing houses with Ravenclaws, or Slytherins, or Gryffindors, or Hufflepuffs. You are all Hogwarts students, and your living quarters are being separated by age. As for quidditch, Madame Hooch has chosen four students, who have in the past proved excellent quidditch players, as captains, and mass tryouts will be held, with each captain choosing their teams in turn. But that announcement will wait until we have settled in with our new routines, in the next couple of weeks.” 

McGonagall continued with her speech, including the usual school rules (Stay out of the forbidden forest, no joke products in the halls, treat all other students with respect.) The biggest announcement, however, was about Hogsmeade weekends. The eighth years, now all legal adults, were free to go to Hogsmeade on any weekend. Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh years could request permission from Professor Weasley to go to Hogsmeade once a month, and third and fourth years would have their normal twice per term visits with signed permission forms. Ginny shot a dirty look toward Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville, as though it was  _ their _ fault they’d been given open access to Hogsmeade. 

Finally after all the announcements had been made, and the new teachers introduced (Harry was wrong. McGonagall was going to continue teaching Transfiguration. The new teacher was not a teacher at all, but a healer-counselor brought in to help the students deal with the battle and losses from last year), and after Ron’s stomach growled embarrassingly loudly several times, dinner was served. 

Harry could have, maybe should have, had a difficult time being in the Great Hall with all the terrible memories of fighting there last year, but he didn’t. He felt safe and warm, surrounded by his best friends, a new boyfriend, and a group of teachers he actually had confidence in. 

They’d tucked in to their food and were laughing and having a good time, when Neville murmured, “Bloody hell, is that Malfoy?”

Everyone at the table looked to where Neville was staring. Sure enough, Draco Malfoy was eating his dinner intently reading a book propped open in front of him. He was at a small table which sat only four, but he had only two table-mates. Two boys who looked as if they were in second or third year and who had their chairs turned toward each other, shutting Malfoy out completely. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry said. “Kingsley told me he was going to be here. His mum insisted on it.”

Neville turned to Harry, his eyes wide in disbelief. “And you didn’t tell me? You couldn’t use the pull you used to keep him out of Azkaban to keep him out of Hogwarts?”

“He wasn’t  _ really _ a Deatheater,” Harry explained to Neville. 

Neville huffed. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Well,” Harry said dryly. “I was a little more concerned at the time that we’d just outed ourselves to your Grandmother and the Minister of Magic. So,”

Ron laughed loudly, “Oh, I need to hear  _ that _ story!”

Neville and Harry told the story of Gran and Kingsley walking in on them in the greenhouse. But Harry watched carefully as Neville kept throwing looks in Malfoy’s direction. Harry knew Neville would never have Malfoy as a pal, but he honestly hadn’t expected Neville to have such a strong negative reaction to the mere presence of Malfoy. Harry made a note to keep an eye on this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short-ish chapter. I actually had a suuuuper long one written, but I decided to break it into two. Chapter six will be up in a few days.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time the feast ended, the students lined up by years to be shown to their dormitories by their head of houses. The eighth year class, much smaller than all the others, clustered in the back, waiting for McGonagall who was helping Professor Sprout deal with the first years. The first year class was by far the largest, as it included all of the twelve-year old muggle-borns who were supposed to have begun the year prior. 

The returning students comprising the eighth year, other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Malfoy, included Parvati and Padma Patil, Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas and Hannah Abbott. They were milling around talking to each other about their summer holidays and what they were planning on studying this year, having been given special permission to help create their own schedules. 

Malfoy, who Harry now noticed was even thinner and paler than usual, was standing off to the side, talking to no one, his nose buried in the same book he’d been reading at dinner. Harry wondered if the book was really that good, or Malfoy didn’t want to talk to any of them. After Harry had testified on Draco’s and Narcissa’s behalf last May, Malfoy had shaken his hand and thanked him quietly, Narcissa had hugged him tearfully. But then he’d heard nothing from them all summer. Which was fine with Harry, testifying on their behalf had been a gut-reaction and he’d never been quite sure it was the right thing to do.

Finally Professor McGonagall gathered them and led them out into the main entrance. There were two doors to either side of the entrance. One was Firenze’s classroom. The other one was a door Harry had never noticed before. It stood on the other side of the swampy marsh Fred and George Weasley had left behind after their spectacular dropping out three years ago. An adorable wooden planked bridge had been built over it, and Harry had to choke back tears when he saw a small inscription,  _ Fred Weasley Memorial Bridge. _ The Bridge led to the door of the eighth years dormitories. 

“Place your wands here,” McGonagall instructed them, demonstrating by putting her wand in a small notch on the lower half of the door. The door slid open to allow them admittance. 

It was a smaller common room than Gryffindor’s had been, but then there were fewer of them. There were overstuffed couches and chairs around a fireplace, a few small tables with chairs around them for studying, low shelves with a lot of books on several different subjects. The floors were smooth stone, and Harry found himself wonder what had happened to the gorgeous rugs that had been in Gryffindor Tower. Wondering why they couldn’t have a nicer floor. 

No sooner had he wondered that then his question was answered. There was a knock on the door and a voice called out “How do I get in?” 

Professor McGonagall smiled, “Put your wand in the notch on the right side of the door.” She turned to the rest of them, “One more student is joining you.”

The door slid open, and in rolled Lavender Brown in a wheelchair. She had a smile on her face, bigger than Harry had ever seen. “Lav!” Screeched Parvati as she rushed over and enveloped her best friend in a hug.

“Surprise!” Lavender giggled. Parvati was leaning into Lavender’s neck and sobbing. 

Neville loped over and hugged Lavender’s other side, and most of them took it in turn to welcome her back, but they all had to hug to one side because Parvati was not letting go.

“Wow,” Lavender said when finally she’d unwound all of her friends from her neck. “Wow,” she said again, looking around. “So this is home this year?” 

“We just got in,” McGonagall explained. She pointed around, “We have the common room, and the tables over there are set to the height of your wheelchair. We’ve removed the carpeting from the common room,” she pointed to the floor, “and the girls’ dormitories are right there,” she pointed to one room directly off the common room. McGonagall turned to the others, “The boys are down that flight of stairs.” 

“Stairs aren’t a problem,” Lavender said. “My chair’s been bewitched to float when I need it.”

“Still,” said Professor McGonagall, looking at Lavender more fondly than Harry had ever seen her look at anyone. “I can’t imagine floating in a chair feels sturdy.”

Lavender nodded, “This is great. It’s all great. Thank you for making these accommodations for me.”

Professor McGonagall pulled Lavender aside and they talked for a while longer, as Harry and his friends sat on a couch by the fireplace, chatting. Eventually, McGonagall handed out their schedules. The eighth years schedules were much more specialized, based on what types of careers they were considering. 

To that end, Harry’s schedule included several planning sessions with Bill Weasley, Charms, Transfiguration, and because Kingsley insisted, Potions. All in all, it was a much easier schedule than he was accustomed to, though he would be doing N.E.W.T level work. He and Ron had identical schedules, and Hermione was in all their classes plus she decided to continue with arithmancy and Herbology. Neville’s only non-Herbology course was Charms. The rest of his days were going to be spent assisting Professor Sprout, who was rebuilding the greenhouses.

___

The year started off well. Harry enjoyed his classes, and he especially enjoyed having Neville in a bed right next to his in the dormitory. After everyone had gone to sleep, Neville would usually sneak out of his own bed and into Harry’s, where they would put up the strongest silencing charm they could, and shag each other senseless.

While Harry and Neville weren’t fully open, kissing and hand-holding in front of the school, or openly cuddling on the common room couches like Ron and Hermione, they also weren’t making it their business to be secretive about their relationship. If anyone asked, they’d answer truthfully. And only a week into the school year, Seamus, seeing Neville awaken from Harry’s bed early one morning asked  loudly, “Are you two shagging or something?”

Neville grinned, “Yeah,” he answered. 

No stranger to Harry having nightmares, Seamus had done a double take, because he’d been certain Neville had just been soothing Harry after a bad dream. But still, the entire rest of the dorm room had heard, and every head swiveled to gawk at Neville and Harry. Anthony Goldstein, Harry noticed, was openly scowling, and Draco Malfoy came closer to having a smile on his face than he’d been all week, closer to a smirk really, though he still had his nose buried in a book. 

Seamus laughed loudly and turned to Ernie MacMillan “And you thought all this time that Dean and I were the ones dueling wands! You were looking at the wrong Gryffindors, man.”

Harry had to chuckle, because in the back of his mind, he  _ had _ always wondered about Seamus and Dean. But evidently they were just good friends, not lovers.    
  


_____   
  


A couple of weeks after that, Harry was on his way to potions a little early in the dungeons, when he heard a commotion from behind the stairwell. Two sixth year boys had cornered Malfoy, whose wand was on the floor just feet away from him and they were holding their wands to his face. 

“Why’d you come back, Deatheater?” One of the boys sneered. 

“We didn’t need no fecking Slytherins here,” said the other one. 

“The Minister gave me permission,” Harry could hear Malfoy’s voice shaking, despite trying his best to hold it steady. “He said I’ve a right to be here as much as you.”

“We’ll see about that,” said the first boy, a chubby kid who Harry recognized as being a former Ravenclaw. 

“No you won’t,” Harry said, pulling his wand on both of the boys. They turned and looked scared to see The Boy Who Lived catching them in the act. “What’re your names?” he asked them. 

“None of your business,” said the first boy boldly. But the second boy at the same time added shakily, “John Wallace.”

Harry pointed his wand at the first boy again. “Your  _ name. _ ”

“What’re you defending this Deatheater for?” The kid asked. He was still pointing his own wand at Malfoy. 

Harry took a step closer and raised his wand higher. “I’m going to ask you one more time for your name.” 

The second boy sighed, “His name’s Roger Englethorp.” Englethorp threw a nasty look at John Wallace. 

“Get out of here,” Harry commanded them. “You heard McGonagall at the feast. This isn’t the way Hogwarts students behave.”

Englethorp threw Harry a nasty look, but lowered his wand. “You weren’t here last year. You don’t know what it was like when he,” he pointed to Malfoy, “and his friends were running the school.” 

“I know enough,” Harry told him. “Get  _ out _ of here.” 

Englethorp and Wallace threw one last malicious look at Malfoy, who looked completely embarrassed to have been rescued by Harry Potter. Then Englethorp glared at Harry, while Wallace ignored him, as they scurried up the stairs. 

Harry bent down and handed Malfoy his wand. Malfoy looked like he wanted to say thanks, but couldn’t quite manage it. “They didn’t disarm me,” he said instead.

“What?” Harry asked. 

“Those two twats.” He nodded his head toward the stairs. “They didn’t disarm me. I intentionally threw my wand to the ground.”

“Why the bloody hell would you do that? You left yourself defenseless.”

“Yeah, well.” Malfoy shrugged. “If I didn’t have a wand, I couldn’t hurt them with it and get accused of attacking them first. If they’d left here with a  _ scratch _ on them, I’d be expelled no questions asked.”

Harry looked at Malfoy for a moment, before realizing he was exactly right.  “Why’d you even come back then?”

“I need my Potions N.E.W.T.” Malfoy answered. “Durmstrang has shit for Potions class and like him or not, Slughorn is the best Potions Master in Europe. And I want to be the next best Potions Master in Europe. So…” he trailed off. 

“All right,” Harry shrugged. “I’ll walk to class with you.” 

Malfoy didn’t look thrilled, but moved in step with Harry as they silently made their way to the Potions classroom. 

_____

A few days later, Harry was doing some extra potions lessons one evening for Professor Slughorn. Without the help of the Half-Blood Prince, Harry wasn’t nearly as good at potions as Slughorn remembered. Slughorn was, however, a far superior teacher to Snape, and under his guidance, Harry began to get a better feel for making potions. 

On this day, Harry was busy working on a levitation draught. He was distracted because Malfoy was in the room working with Slughorn at the same time. Malfoy was Slughorn’s special assistant and was quite obviously well-versed in potions. Malfoy and Slughorn’s conversation was far beyond Harry’s breadth of knowledge on potions. But he also couldn’t help but notice that this was the happiest he’d seen Malfoy since their return to Hogwarts. 

Malfoy spent his time in the great hall with his nose in a book at a table by himself, and most of his other hours holed up in the library or in the boy’s dorm (but never in the eighth year common room), he very rarely spoke to anyone. But with Slughorn and talking about Potions, his face lit up, he was chatty, and he smiled several times. 

At one point, the door swung open and Lavender Brown rolled in. “Miss Brown!” Professor Slughorn greeted her. “It’s the full moon tomorrow, I take it you’re here for the rest of your potion.”

“Yes, please,” Lavender said as Professor Slughorn went to a cabinet and began rooting through it. She looked around. “Hi Harry. Hi Draco.”

“Hey,” Harry answered with a small wave. Draco gave her an embarrassed smile, his face blushing slightly. 

Professor Slughorn turned around with two flasks for Lavender. “Here you go, dear.” He held one out to her, “Take this one tonight and the next one tomorrow night. You should be fine. I assume you have someplace to go?”

“Yes,” Lavender nodded. “I set it up with McGonagall. Not that it matters much, even in wolf form, my legs don’t work.” She laughed a little at that, but none of the other three laughed with her. 

“Well, this should keep your transformation from being too awful,” Slughorn said kindly. 

Lavender smiled and held the flasks up in a ‘cheers’ motion. “Thanks for this,” she said. Her voice perky, despite the fact that she was getting a lycanthropy potion. Harry was impressed with her ability to stay cheerful in the face of that. She rolled out of the room, calling a goodbye to Harry and Draco as she left. 

Draco watched her go with interest and as the door shut he turned to Slughorn, “How does Wolfsbane work?” he asked. 

“Aconite,” Slughorn answered. “Made from Monkshood that has been harvested at the full moon. We have no potion that can stop the transformation from happening, nor do we have anything that can keep the transformation from being painful. But, this potion keeps the werewolf’s brain very close to its human form, so other humans around it are safe."

“Huh,” Malfoy said thoughtfully, still staring at the door that Lavender had recently exited. “So there’s room for improvement there?” 

“I suppose,” Slughorn answered. “In Miss Brown’s case, she’s safe. That her legs don’t work keeps her from attacking others anyway. But I’ve been requested to make the potion to help keep her more human wits about her.”

_ Her  _ more _ human wits? _ Harry thought to himself.  _ How about just her human wits?  _ Lavender is, after all, a human being

“But it could be less painful for her, right?” Draco asked. “Maybe adding a painkiller to the potion-”

Slughorn cut him off, “I’m afraid that won’t work. It’s been tried and tested numerous times without success. The painkillers ingredients we have to work with make the Aconite inert.”

“What about herbs to induce sleep?” Draco pushed. “Would it be possible to have Lavender, or any werewolf, sleep through the pain of transformation?”

“Well,” Professor Slughorn thought for a moment. “I know that naturally occurring melatonin reacts poorly with Aconite. But there are other herbs out there that induce drowsiness and I’m unsure whether they’ve been tested.”

“Valerian Root is calming, especially when mixed with lavender and is used in sleeping draughts,” Draco pointed out. “Bergamot’s another herb that isn’t used nearly enough in sleeping potions, despite studies showing it’s actually more effective than Valerian and Lavender.”

Slughorn nodded. “Interesting. Draco, if you’d like you can make this your work study assignment. This could be a real boon to start your potions career.”

“Yeah,” Draco nodded. “OK.” He looked pleased with himself. 

At that moment, Harry’s cauldron popped and boiled over with a cloud of pungent smoke. He’d been so busy listening to their conversation, he’d completely ignored his own work in front of himself and forgot to stir the potion ten times clockwise. 

Draco smirked in Harry’s direction, as Slughorn sighed and looked slightly disappointed, wondering what had happened to the brilliant potions student from two years ago. 

____

In the eighth years’ dorm room, people definitely noticed Draco approaching Lavender. The two of them spent a couple of nights cowered in a corner of the room and speaking quietly. Harry knew it was about the wolfsbane potion, but he didn’t want to tell anyone. This was Draco’s thing, Lavender’s thing. 

Harry and Neville got into a small argument over it. “What’s he doing to Lavender?” Neville hissed to him, Ron & Hermione, looking at Draco with untrusting eyes. “What’s he up to? Hasn’t she suffered enough?”

“Lavender can take care of herself,” Harry told Neville, under his breath.

“She doesn’t exactly look like she’s in distress, anyway,” Hermione pointed out to Neville. 

They all glanced over. Lavender was smiling and nodding at something Draco had said to her. Far from looking distressed, she looked interested, and like she was actually enjoying her conversation with Draco. 

“How can she just trust him?” Neville wanted to know. 

“It’s her business,” Harry told Neville. “Just leave them alone.”

Neville glared at Harry. “I just want her to be safe.”

“She’s safe,” Harry pointed out. “She’s surrounded by people who love her and care about her.”

“And Malfoy,” Neville added. 

“I don’t think Malfoy’s going to hurt anyone,” Harry said quietly to his boyfriend. “That’s not him anymore.” Harry wondered if it ever really was, or if all of Malfoy’s problems were rooted in having had a father like Lucius. 

Neville snorted, “Maybe you’re being naive.” 

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and as one, got up and left Harry and Neville to their disagreement. 

“Maybe you’re being an arse,” Harry retorted. 

Neville gave Harry an astounded look. “This is Malfoy we’re talking about, Harry.  _ Malfoy _ . We’ve only been back at school a month. How much do you really think he’s changed?”

“Enough,” Harry said, and when Neville snorted again, he went on. “Look, I’m not about to be best mates with the guy, but if you don’t give him a chance how can he ever prove he’s changed?”

“He had his chance last year,” Neville argued. “You weren’t here. You don’t know what the reign of Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle was like.”

“And you don’t know what being raised by Lucius Malfoy was like for him.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Neville said. Harry was shocked, Neville rarely went into sarcasm territory. “He had a dad, which is more than you and I had.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I know. Your point is that we should feel sorry for the sod.”

“Not even that,” Harry said. “We should give him a chance to be a good person, if that’s what he wants to be.”

“That broom has flown, Harry. You know it.”

Harry went silent for a moment. “No. I don’t know it. But I do know you’re being completely unreasonable. And you’re being…. _ mean. _ You’re being mean about this for no good reason.”

“Last year was reason enough.”

“Last year was a fucking anomaly. This year….Merlin, Neville. We’ve got the chance to change things around here. We can be an example of...of...cooperation. Real cooperation and real change in the way the whole wizarding world works. But we’ve got to be able to let go of some things. Isn’t that what you want?”

Neville stood as well. He glanced at Harry, then at Malfoy, then back at Harry. “In a perfect world. But I don’t want it with  _ him. _ ”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Harry said. “Because it’s what I want. Because trying to make a nice new world is maybe the one way I can learn to control my nightmares. And I really wanted someone to share that with.” He grabbed his books, and made his way to the boys’ dormitory.

That night, for the first time since they’d been back to Hogwarts, Neville didn’t climb into bed with Harry. Not even when Harry awoke with a start and a stifled scream from yet another nightmare. This nightmare had Neville being tortured by Deatheaters. 


	7. Chapter 7

Two days later, Harry and Neville called a truce. Technically they were forced into a truce by Hermione because neither one was likely to be the first to apologize. Essentially, they agreed to disagree on the Draco thing. Harry wouldn’t force Neville to play nice with Draco, and Neville wouldn’t make disparaging remarks about Draco in front of Harry. 

“Or in front of me,” Hermione said. “Honestly, Neville. I’m with Harry on this one. If we have any hope of creating something good in the post-Voldemort world, we’ll have to work on our forgiveness.” 

“You weren’t here last year,” Neville said again, which had been his refrain to Harry when they were on the subject of Draco. 

“Well, no. But-”

“But nothing,” Neville said. “I’m willing to call this truce, but you need to be a part of it too. Alright? Let’s just...let’s just not talk about him.” 

“Fine,” Hermione said, and she and Neville shook on it. 

“He’ll come around,” Hermione whispered to Harry. 

Weeks went by and the memory of Harry and Neville’s first fight began to fade. After a few awkward days of politeness and a lack of affection toward each other, the two managed to get back on track. They’d sneak into each other’s beds at night, set up a silencing charm, and have a shag. Now that all the eighth years knew they were together, they’d hold hands, or show small amounts of affection publicly. A back rub, a kiss on the cheek. 

Eventually word got around the rest of the school that Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom were together. Harry had been a little concerned what other students might say, though Neville was surprisingly comfortable with being one of the first openly gay students at Hogwarts. Harry hadn’t been at school the year prior, so it took him some time to realize what a strong leader Neville had been. It showed in the way the younger students looked up to him, how they beamed when he would say hi to them by name in the halls. And that he had the savior, Harry Potter, on his arm half the time only made him that much more popular. 

When Harry would think back to chubby little Neville from their first year, he almost couldn’t believe the transformation. Physically, Neville’s baby fat had melted away with puberty and was replaced by broad shoulders with arms and a torso heavily muscled from so much greenhouse work. But on another level, Neville was more comfortable with people, more outgoing and had morphed into a natural leader. No longer the scared forgetful boy, he was now confident and brave. 

And Harry  _ loved  _ him. 

One evening Harry was working on after-hours potions while Slughorn and Malfoy were busy brewing a batch of amortentia. Harry had to leave, he was so overcome with desire after smelling the hot earthy smell of the greenhouse, mixed with the tea tree shampoo Neville favored. Harry hauled back to eighth year common room, grabbed a condom from his bedside table and pulled Neville into Firenze’s empty forest classroom.

In minutes they were naked, Neville’s legs wrapped firmly around Harry’s waist as Harry carefully pushed into Neville’s tight body. Neville let his head fall back, his eyes rolling briefly into the back of his head. He was overwhelmed with the sensation of being filled. He lifted his hips and Harry hitched into him further, before starting to grind to a rhythm. 

It didn’t take long until they were both coming. Neville first, and when his body instinctively tightened around Harry’s cock in response, it was more than Harry could bear. Harry groaned as he pushed one more time before coming as hard as he ever had. 

Breathing heavily and still panting slightly, Harry kissed Neville softly on the forehead and said it. “I love you,” he whispered. 

Neville grinned and pulled Harry down tight to him. “I love you too.” 

_______

Harry had managed to avoid going to see the Healer-Counselor who’d been brought in for the year to help the students deal with the aftermath of the war. He was having nightmares, but Neville helped him with that. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anger he couldn’t control. 

He was sad a lot, sure. But wasn’t everybody? Fred was his friend. Remus and Tonks had been his friends and they were dead. Honestly, Harry would have been more worried if he wasn’t sad. 

Still, Professor McGonagall had been after him to visit with Healer Dooley since the start of term, and when McGonagall realized Harry was brushing her off, she took it upon herself to schedule an appointment for him. 

That’s how one afternoon in early October Harry found himself sitting in a small book-lined office facing Natalie Dooley, Healer-Counselor on loan from St. Mungo’s. According to Hermione, she specialized in grief and post-traumatic injuries. Hermione had been seeing Healer Dooley twice a week since the start of term and had even convinced Ron and Neville to go. She’d never successfully convinced Harry, though he suspected she’d been in cahoots with McGonagall to get him a secret appointment. 

“It’s good to see you, Harry.” Healer Dooley said as she closed the door and took a seat across from Harry. She was on the young side, not even thirty yet and very pretty with dark brown hair and wide amber eyes. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“I hear you were a little anxious about coming to see me.” 

“What? No I wasn’t. I just think I’m doing OK on my own.”

Healer Dooley nodded, “I see. How are your classes?” 

Harry shrugged, “Fine.” 

“Trouble concentrating?” 

Harry shrugged again. “Not especially.” 

“What kind of grades do you get?” 

“Fine. They’re fine. Good enough to get me into the Auror program.” 

Healer Dooley raised her eyebrows. “You want to be an Auror?” 

“I could be one soon, you know. I got into the program by special request of the Minister of Magic, but I chose to come back to Hogwarts for my eighth year.” 

“Let’s talk about that decision.” 

“I came back because I’m seeing someone from my year who I wanted to be with.”  Harry was evasive with the pronouns. 

“Is that the only reason?” 

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. 

Healer Dooley nodded. “Well, this person you’re seeing. Do you think they’re helping you deal with the aftermath of the war?” Harry noted her use of the neutral pronoun, and realized Neville may have talked to her about him. 

“Do you know who it is?” 

Healer Dooley smiled. “I do. But I don’t think people should be forced out of the closet, so I was going to go gender neutral until you said something.” 

“Neville helps me,” Harry said. “I get nightmares,” he admitted, “But you know, our beds are right next to each other in the dormitory so he climbs into bed with me.” 

“And that helps?” 

“Well, it sure doesn’t hurt,” he said. Instantly he realized he’d just made a  _ sex _ joke to a Healer and his face reddened. “I mean-”

She laughed, “It’s OK. You can talk to me about sex. You can talk about being gay if you want.” 

“I’m not gay,” Harry corrected. 

“Oh?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m bi. I like blokes and I like girls.” 

“OK, well my understanding is that you and Neville are pretty well out to the school. How did that make you feel?” 

“Any other year it would have made me nervous. But we’re...well, you know. We’re famous and war heroes and all that. I’m sure it made it a lot easier.” 

“I can’t disagree with you there,” Dooley said. 

Despite himself, Harry liked this woman. He knew he was there to talk about being sad, about his experiences with the war and with loss from last year, but she allowed the conversation to start on a bright note, and was willing to let Harry direct the conversation. 

“It’s not worth it though.” Harry added. 

“How so?”

“You know. I’d rather spend the rest of my life in the closet if it meant the people who died last year could live.”

“That’s not possible.” 

“I know. True, though.”

“Does thinking that way help you?” 

“Help me how?” 

“Does it make you feel better?” 

“It doesn’t have to make me feel better. It’s true.” 

“Can I ask about your childhood?” Harry hadn’t expected that question and was silent, so Healer Dooley continued. “We don’t have to. You just seem to be awfully comfortable with the idea of truths not needing to make you feel better. I don’t know much about your childhood, Harry, but you are a person with some level of fame, so I do know that it’s been described as an unhappy childhood. And if that’s your truth, then much like the war last year, you can’t change it. You can’t exchange something good now to change something in your past.” 

Harry mulled that over. “It was not a happy childhood,” he admitted. “How much detail do you want?”

“For the moment? Only what you’re comfortable giving.” 

Harry was unsure about how much he wanted to talk. Wasn’t he here to talk about the war? Not about the Dursleys? Finally he answered, “My Aunt was my mum’s only sister. All my grandparents were dead and Dumbledore thought I needed to be raised outside the wizarding world because of who I was. But my Aunt and Uncle treated me very poorly and my cousin, who’s a year older, tormented me my whole childhood.

“They told me my mum and dad died in a car accident. And they didn’t tell me I was a wizard. I came to Hogwarts and I was eleven and I had  _ no  _ idea. I didn’t know who I was, I didn’t know anything about magic.”

“That must have been scary.”

“A bit,” Harry said. “But it was more a relief that I wasn’t like them.” 

“A muggle?” 

“There are good muggles,” Harry pointed out.

“Of course there are. These particular muggles though?”

“Not good.” 

“Go on.” 

“I don’t really want to,” Harry said shortly. He didn’t want to talk about sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs. He didn’t want to talk about all the times Vernon and Petunia just failed to give him meals. Or the days on end when no one would utter a word his way. He didn’t want to talk about Dudley sitting on Harry and pulling his hair and calling him Harry the Fairy. He didn’t want to talk about entire days spent washing dishes and mopping floors and dusting ceilings. He didn’t want to talk about the plans of revenge that had started to build up like a sickness in his ten-year old head. He knew Hogwarts hadn’t just saved him, it had quite possibly saved Vernon, Petunia and Dudley from a violent end. 

It was like he’d gotten to Hogwarts all those years ago and found his place. And suddenly his Aunt and Uncle and Cousin just weren’t worth it anymore. They weren’t worth caring enough about to hurt. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice magic and wizardry to get back at them for ten years nonstop abuse. And suddenly, those short summer holidays were much easier to take when he knew it was temporary. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Healer Dooley assured him. “Tell me about last year instead.” 

“I’d really rather not,” Harry said. 

“You seem to be closing up on me,” Healer Dooley said. She didn’t say it in an accusatory tone at all, and Harry knew that. But he still shifted uncomfortably and felt his heart rate rise slightly. 

“You seem to be asking about topics I don’t want to talk about.” Harry shot back hotly. 

Healer Dooley nodded, “Yes, it seems I am. You seemed much happier when we were talking about Neville. We can go back to that.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, Harry. Counseling isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon. For true healing to take place, you need to pace yourself. And I could tell your emotions were getting the best of you, and that’s something that can wait until another time.” 

“Oh,” Harry shrunk in on himself a bit, embarrassed by his slight outburst. “So what do you want to know about Neville?” 

“Whatever you want to tell me.” 

So he told her the story of having Neville’s Gran and the Minister of Magic walk in on them snogging in the greenhouse, which make Healer Dooley laugh. And he told her about how the other eighth years reacted kindly when they found out he and Neville were together. He asked her if she was going to report any broken school rules to McGonagall, and she assured him that she absolutely would not. So then Harry told her about sneaking into the empty divination classroom, which was an indoor forest, and having sex on the forest floor. “It’s when I told him I love him.” 

“Is that the first time you’ve said that to anyone?” 

“Yes,” Harry said, nodding. “I had a girlfriend in sixth year, and I Iiked her a lot, and if we’d gotten the chance I definitely would have had sex with her. But the way I felt about her, well. It just pales to what I feel about Neville. Even the love I feel for Ron and Hermione. It’s not the same.” 

“Some people think it’s a bad idea to get into a relationship right after a traumatic event.” 

“Those people can go drown in a cauldron.” 

“I agree with you, actually.” Healer Dooley said. “I think everyone is different. And some people may need alone time to work out their issues, but some people do a fine job of it working on themselves and working on a relationship.”

“This relationship isn’t work,” Harry explained. “It’s so natural, and we just fit together. Like, we’re a little two piece puzzle.” He linked his fingers together to show her.

“Relationships can’t always been smooth sailing, Harry.” 

“Ours is good.” 

At that moment, a little picture of a goat on the wall bleated. “Our time is up for today, Harry.” 

“OK,” Harry stood up, “Well, I sure feel better,” he lied. 

“You don’t need to use sarcasm as a defense mechanism with me, Mr. Potter. I’ll see you back here this time next week.” 

“For what?” 

“For our next session.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Just humor me, here. I need to know what rooms you’re breaking into to shag your boyfriend. Just, try to keep my office off-limits, eh?” 

Harry had to laugh, “OK, fine. Next week. But I don’t make any promises after that.” 

“Of course not.” 

Harry gave her a small wave and walked out the door, annoyed with himself that he actually  _ did  _ feel a little better despite not having talked about much. Hermione was going to be unbearable - she just loved to be right. 

___

For the first time that night, Draco was one of the people dying in Harry’s dream. The Room of Requirement was on fire, and Harry was on his broom and couldn’t reach Draco’s hand. Harry couldn’t move and sat there and watched as Draco was consumed by fire. It felt so real so that when Neville shook him awake, Harry could swear he was still smelling burning flesh. 

“Shh, shh,” Neville consoled him. He pulled the covers back and climbed into bed with Harry, who was sweating and still shaking from the dream. Neville put his arms around Harry and held him tight, spooning him, until Harry’s breath evened, and he stopped shivering. 

Neville kissed Harry’s shoulder and whispered, “You OK? You were really loud tonight.” 

Harry pushed his damp hair off his sweaty brow. “I’m fine now. This one was the fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement.” He didn’t say anything about Malfoy, though he wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t. 

“It’s OK now,” Neville said, “I’m here.” He continued to kiss Harry on the back of the neck and down his back. Harry could feel Neville growing harder behind him. 

“Nev,” Harry said. “I’m really tired. I think I just want to sleep.”

“Sure,” Neville said, with one final kiss to the shoulder. 

He started to get out of the bed, but Harry stopped him. “I still want you with me.” 

Neville grinned and got back into bed with Harry, and wrapped his body around him. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too."

They fell asleep like that until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm several chapters further ahead writing this than I am in publishing it. It looks like this will be about 14-15 chapters. (With a few extras at the end telling parts of this story from Draco's point of view.)


	8. Chapter 8

Harry was frantically flipping through his Potions textbook. He was trying to do an essay on Veritaserum, and needed information on a specific ingredient. The textbook was no help. Harry sighed and looked at his pocketwatch. It was nearly eight in the evening and Neville would be back from the greenhouse at any moment. 

Harry knew he should really go to the library to get a book to help him with this homework. 

Except...over there in the corner, sitting with Lavender Brown as he had been so often recently, was Draco Malfoy. A veritable wealth of potions knowledge. Harry could just go over and ask Malfoy and save himself the trip to the library. 

But...this was Malfoy. And Harry didn’t exactly love the thought of going over there to chat with him. Neville was supposed to be back from the greenhouse soon, and he and Harry had plans to sneak into Firenze’s classroom again tonight. Which they could do quicker if Harry didn’t have to trek across the castle into the library.  

Harry sighed and hitched his knapsack on his back higher and walked over to where Malfoy was sitting on a small loveseat, facing Lavender in her wheelchair.

“Hi Harry,” Lavender said. 

Malfoy looked up. A second earlier he’d been smiling in his conversation with Lavender, now he looked a little suspicious, maybe even scared, to see Harry Potter standing over him. 

“Hi,” Harry said and sat next to Malfoy quickly. “Sorry to interrupt, I was just wondering if I could ask you a question.”

“Me?” Draco asked. 

“Yes. It’s about Potions. I’m stuck and I can’t find the answer in the textbook.” 

“Oh. That’s fine.” 

“So, when you make Veritaserum, you boil a frog spleen in purified water with three drops of dandelion oil, right?”

“That’s one step of many,” Draco said. 

“OK, but dandelion oil doesn’t have any properties on its own that seem to make veritaserum work. So why is it included in the potion?” 

Draco looked relieved to know the answer. “It’s tricky,” he answered. “Basically, at the magical molecular level neither the frog spleen or the dandelion oil do much. But when they’re combined together the consistency is perfect for the active ingredient-”

Harry interrupted, “Wafer Ash.” 

Draco nodded, “Yes. The consistency of the oil brings out the transitive property of Wafer Ash, which relaxes the brain, making the person who’s taking the Veritaserum unable to fight the truth.”

“It’s like you were telling me,” Lavender interrupted, “With the ingredients for Wolfsbane.” 

“Exactly.  A lot of potions are like that, you know the ingredients separately don’t do much, but it’s the way the magical properties come out when certain ingredients are combined.” 

“Are you working on the Wolfsbane?” Harry asked. 

“Yes,” Draco answered. “Lavender’s been helping me.” 

“Well, I’ve been providing the lycanthropy. Draco’s been doing the actual work.” 

“Ah, Lav. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re doing a lot. Putting up with me, for example.” 

Lavender giggled, and Harry blanched. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Draco Malfoy was flirting with Lavender Brown. But….that was impossible. Lavender is muggle-born. Surely Narcissa Malfoy didn’t send her only son, the only heir to one of Britain’s most powerful pureblood families, back to Hogwarts so he could fall for a common wheelchair-bound, muggleborn girl with a mass of curly hair and a loud giggle. 

Neville walked into the common room and spied Harry sitting in the corner with Malfoy and Lavender. His eyes widened with questions, but he simply held up his hands, covered in dirt and pointed to the bathroom to indicate he was going to shower. 

“You and Neville are really cute together,” Lavender said, leaning toward Harry. 

“Oh, er-Thanks.” 

“They’re kind of nauseating, actually.” Draco drawled, his eyes not leaving Lavender’s smile. “They climb into each other’s beds at night and set up silencing charms.” 

Harry snorted, “What’re you doing? Watching us?” 

“You aren’t the only one with sleeping problems, you know,” Draco said, pulling his eyes away from Lavender and looking to Harry. 

“Huh,” Harry said thoughtfully. None of the other eighth year boys were waking with nightmares. It hadn’t occurred to him that there were others. “Anyway,” he stood up. “Thanks for the help, Malfoy.” 

“Any time,” Draco said, and he actually sounded sincere. 

Harry dropped his knapsack on his bed and made his way to the boys bathroom. Neville was in the far shower, washing his hair. The scent of tea-tree oil filled the bathroom. Harry went and stood in front of the shower. “Hey.” 

Neville opened his eyes as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. “Watching a guy shower?” He asked jokingly. “Like what you see?”

Harry drug his eyes up and down Neville’s body. “You know I do.”

Neville winked at him then asked, “What were you talking to Malfoy about?” 

Harry shrugged, “Potions. I got stuck on this Veritaserum question. And I figured drag myself all the way to the library, or go ask our resident Potions genius.” 

Neville soaped up his body, “I don’t trust him with Lavender.” 

“They’re working on something together,” Harry explained. 

“He’s been flirting with her.” 

“So?” 

Neville didn’t say anything for a few moments as he rinsed his body off. “We’d better drop the subject,” he said finally. “When we called our truce, we said we wouldn’t talk about him anymore.”

At that moment the bathroom door opened, and Neville and Harry both turned their heads to see Draco walk in. Draco glanced at them as he made his way over to the urinal and started peeing. Neville shut off the water and began drying himself off silently. Draco washed his hands before turning to them and saying, “You really need to watch your boyfriend shower, Potter? Why don’t you two get a room?” His voice wasn’t snide, it was jocular, friendly. 

Still Neville bristled. Harry just smiled and said, “That’s the plan, actually.” 

Draco rolled his eyes, “Too much information, Potter.”  And he walked out the bathroom. 

Neville was incredulous. “Get a room? What does he hate gay people now too?” 

“Calm down,” Harry said. “He doesn’t hate gay people. We’re in a public bathroom, and I was standing here watching you shower. In public. He made a joke about it.” 

“He can take his joke and shove it.” 

“I thought we were going to drop it,” Harry said wearily. 

Neville pulled on his underpants and trousers, and finally answered Harry, while raking his fingers through his wet hair. “You’re right. Let’s drop it.” 

“We had plans to sneak into Firenze’s classroom again, if I recall correctly,” Harry said, pulling Neville to him. 

Neville closed his eyes and smiled. He planted a kiss onto Harry’s lips. “By all means, lead the way.” 

No one batted an eye as Harry and Neville walked out of the common room. As McGonagall had promised, the eighth years had far fewer rules about bed times, and being in the halls at night than the other students had. 

They saw no one as they snuck into Firenze’s classroom. Being in this room felt so much like the outdoors, Harry always felt a little bit dizzy stepping in. Harry tugged Neville in further and they found a small clearing in between some trees and dropped to the ground. 

They kissed for several minutes, nestling themselves in among leaves. Neville was laying on top of Harry, Harry’s legs wrapped around his waist. “Get your shirt off,” Neville huffed, tugging at the hem of Harry’s shirt. Neville himself was already shirtless, he’d never even put his on after his shower. 

Harry pulled the shirt over his head, then leaned back and gasped as Neville began working on Harry’s nipples. Harry felt himself growing harder, and he pushed his hips toward Neville, who placed a hand on the front of Harry’s trousers and began stroking. 

Later on, they would agree that they were both relieved that they were at least still  _ mostly  _ dressed when Firenze interrupted them. “You know, Mr. Potter. There are several rooms in the castle you can do this. I’d rather you didn’t use my classroom.” 

Harry and Neville pushed away from each other immediately. Harry felt his face warm up, and knew he must have been blushing every bit as hard as Neville. “Oh, er-” he croaked. “Right. Well, sorry about that Firenze.” 

“Yeah,” Neville mumbled, fumbling with the zipper on his trousers. “Sorry. We shouldn’t have done that, you shouldn’t have had to see…”

Firenze waved them off. “The sexual proclivities of humans does not interest me, young man. I know you mate for reasons other than having young. I do wonder, however, if you realize that by both of you being male, you won’t be able to bear young.” 

“Er, yeah,” Harry said. “We realize it. Like you said, we do it for reasons other than, you know. Having babies.” 

“Very well,” Firenze said, and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “Like I said, please find another place to mate that is not my classroom. I will have a talk with McGonagall about putting a lock on this door.” 

Harry and Neville rushed out of the room, Harry pulling his shirt back on, while they were on their way out. As soon as Firenze shut the door behind them and they were left in the hallway with no one around, they burst into laughter. 

Neville ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, he’s going to tell McGonagall and McGonagall is going to tell Gran.” 

Harry shrugged, “Gran already knows. She’s the one who walked in on us in your greenhouse. Blimey, Nev. We’ve got to stop getting walked in on.” 

“True,” Neville said. He buried his face in his hands for another second before looking up at Harry. “No offense, but Firenze calling that  _ mating _ really turned me off.” 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Let’s just go back in and finish our homework. I have those Potions questions that aren’t going to answer themselves.” 

Neville and Harry sat side by side on a couch, working on their homework. Every now and then one would whisper “Mating,” or “Bearing young,” to the other and they’d start snickering. Hermione and Ron, sitting across from them looked mystified. 

_____

Things became easier with Ginny. She’d been named one of the Quidditch Captains, and Harry had taken to flying with her to give her extra practice. 

Harry and Ron weren’t allowed on the teams. Since they were the only eighth years who played, it would be an unfair advantage to whatever teams got them on their teams. McGonagall had decided Quidditch was reserved for Seventh years and under. No matter how much Harry and Ron had protested. 

That didn’t stop Harry from getting out his Firebolt and practicing whenever he could. God, he’d missed flying. Forget Healer Dooley, Harry was sure he could get his head on straight simply by getting enough flying time every day. 

Ginny wanted to train her team as often as possible, but that turned out to not be as often as she wanted. She, Harry and Ron would occasionally leave the castle just before dusk and playing Quidditch games. Ginny would try to score on Ron ten times before Harry could catch the snitch. Sometimes Hermione and Neville would watch from the bleachers.

And sometimes they’d start out practicing, but end up talking. One night, they were hovering on their brooms, fifty feet in the air when Ginny announced, “Owen Wheeler asked me out on a date.” 

“Ha!” Ron said. Owen Wheeler was a former Ravenclaw, and Captain of one of Ginny’s rival teams. “He probably just wants Quidditch secrets.” 

“Ron,” Harry admonished. 

Ginny pouted, “What makes you think he doesn’t just like me?” 

Ron shrugged, “I wouldn’t date someone on a different Quidditch team.” 

“If we’d been able to play,” Harry pointed out, “We likely would have been on opposing teams.”

“Quidditch first, mate,” Ron said with a wink. “And anyway, I wouldn’t date you either way.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to Ginny, “What’d you say?”

“I said yes,” she said primly. “But I made him swear we wouldn’t talk about Quidditch.” 

“Good,” Harry said. Maybe Ginny getting another boyfriend is just what Harry needed to get those last few remaining feelings of guilt out of his system. Because while Ginny and Neville had gone easily back into best friend mode, she and Harry had been a little slower to repair their relationship. 

The three of them flew back to the ground as it got darker, and walked back up to the castle together, talking and laughing and teasing Ginny in a friendly manner about her upcoming date.


	9. Chapter 9

The Hogwarts Staff decided to celebrate a successful first half of the year by scheduling a Yule Ball for Christmas Evening. Most students over fourth year decided to stick around for it. 

The most surprising thing of all, to Harry at least, was that Malfoy had decided to stay at Hogwarts for it. The two boys Harry had rescued Malfoy from continued to torment him, to the point that Malfoy had figured out different routes to walk in the castle between classes to avoid them. And anyway, he was spending most of his time either in the Potions classroom or holed up in the common room or a corner of the library with Lavender Brown. While that was a shock to a lot of people at first, they eventually were seen together so often, no one batted an eye anymore. 

Until a week before the Yule Ball, and Seamus Finnigan asked Lavender to be his date to the Ball. 

“I’m sorry Seamus,” she answered. “I’ve already got a date.” 

“Really? Who?”

“I’m going with Draco,” Lavender said. 

The general buzz and noise in the common room died down, and everyone looked over where Lavender was sitting with Draco. Draco’s face reddened and he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, but Lavender looked defiant. Her wide smile daring Seamus to say anything to her. 

Seamus stammered a moment. “D-Draco? You’re going with  _ Draco? _ ”

“Yes.”

“But why?” 

“Because he’s been real nice to me, and he asked, and I thought it sounded like fun to go with him.” 

“You don’t have to go just because he asked.” 

“Rude,” Lavender sniffed. Her smile turned into a frown. “Do you think my fall injured my head in addition to my legs?”

“What?” Seamus looked confused. 

“I’m not stupid, Seamus. I’m well-aware I don’t need to go to the Yule Ball with Draco just because he asked. My mind is working perfectly fine, and if I didn’t want to go with him, I would have turned him down.” 

Seamus looked suspiciously at Draco. Draco had become accustomed to being ignored at Hogwarts, something he rather preferred to this attention. “Did you slip her a potion, Malfoy?”

“Hey,” Harry called from across the room. “Back off Seamus.” 

Seamus turned, looking ready to retort to Harry, when Draco quietly interrupted him. “Are you aware that the full moon is on Christmas night?” 

“Huh?” Seamus whipped his head back to look at Draco. 

“Christmas night is a full moon.”

“Oh,” Seamus looked at Lavender, who was openly scowling at him. “No. I didn’t realize."

Seamus stalked away, a mutinous look on his face. Later, when it was just Harry, Dean, Neville, and Seamus in the boys’ dormitory Seamus said, “She’s only going with him because he’s willing to miss half the Ball.” 

“Would you have been willing to?” Harry asked mildly.

“What’s that got to do with it? It’s not like I’d abandon her, yeah? She’s got a place she goes on the full moon, and I’d be a  _ gentleman _ about walking her there before she turns.”

“I don’t trust him,” Neville said.

“Thank you,” Seamus added. 

Harry and Dean glanced at each other, neither willing to start an argument. “Lavender does,” Harry said. “That should be enough for you.” Harry was wondering now if Lavender and Draco would even care if Harry told others about their getting together to create a new Wolfsbane potion. Was this even something worth keeping a secret? It was actually a good thing Draco was doing. Maybe if Harry told Neville about it, it would help him come around on Draco. 

Neville shook his head in Harry’s direction. “You and Dean weren’t here last year,” Neville said. “If you had been, you wouldn’t be so quick to forgive Draco.” 

“Right,” Seamus agreed emphatically.

Harry sighed, “We aren’t supposed to be talking about this, remember?” 

“Right,” Neville said. “We’re not.” 

“Bugger off then, Harry, so Neville and I can keep talking about it,” Seamus said. 

Harry laughed for a moment, then looked between Neville and Seamus who were obviously very serious. He rolled his eyes and sighed. He grabbed his shower things and headed off to the bathroom. 

____

Two nights later, Professor McGonagall called a meeting for the eighth years in their common room. “I know that we have given you fewer rules to follow than the other students,” she began once they were crowded onto the couches and chairs while McGonagall held court. “However, I would appreciate it if you eighth years would try to behave appropriately. You can be out in the halls at whatever time, but please make sure you aren’t up to something unwise. And,” she put her hand to her forehead like she couldn’t  _ believe _ what she had to say, “I understand that you are mostly eighteen and nineteen years old now, and many of you are sexually active. Please try to keep it appropriate. I’m not going to call out names, but Professor Firenze had me change the locks on his classroom because some eighth year students were using the forest floor in there as a personal - a very personal - bedroom.” 

There were some snickers and glances around. Neville pressed his thigh into Harry’s as they both suppressed smiles. 

“I expect every one of you to be on perfect behavior at the Yule Ball,” McGonagall continued. “The younger students look up to you, and you have to set a good example for them. While you’re there, you are of course welcome to dance, but please no overt sexuality in your dancing. And as always, please remember to treat each other with respect, even if you may not like that person.” She looked around at the class for effect, though Draco Malfoy’s eyes were on his knees. 

“Any questions?”

No one said anything, so McGonagall got up and left. Things were quiet after the door shut for only a moment before Ron let out a long sigh, “That Firenze thing was us,” he admitted, waving his hand between himself and Hermione.

“Ron,” Hermione admonished, putting his hand down and frowning at him for letting everyone know that. 

“Well actually,” Justin Finch-Fletchly said quietly, “It could be me and Hannah….” he drifted off. The entire common room turned to look at them and he shrugged, but looked pretty pleased with himself.

Neville coughed. Harry leaned forward and took a drink from a glass of water on the table in front of him. He cleared his throat, “Actually. Firenze outright caught me and Neville the other night.” 

“Mate,” Ron said in disbelief. “Didn’t you think to look for him before you started it?” 

“Well,” Harry said dryly. “We had other things on our minds.” 

“Brilliant,” Ron said, just as sarcastically. “If the eighth years suddenly have a bunch of rules to follow, we’ll know who to blame.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” Hermione said. 

“I think it’s bollocks,” Ron said. “Their beds are right next to each other in the dormitory. Nothing’s stopping them from drawing the curtain and setting up a silencing charm. Which we all see them do  _ every night.”  _

“Sorry,” Harry said, in a tone that indicated he wasn’t sorry at all. 

“No you’re not,” Ron said. He was cheerful though, he wasn’t really angry with Harry. “And you shouldn’t be. Just don’t go ruining any of the other places the rest of us like to sneak off to.

_____

One Saturday a couple of weeks before the Yule Ball, Harry went into Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione. Ron and Harry both needed new dress robes for the ball. Neville’s gran sent his, and his help was needed in the greenhouse that day, so he couldn’t come along.  

It was freezing as they made their way to Gladrags Wizard Wear, where they shed their hats and gloves and cloaks and warmed themselves by the fire in the corner. 

“How may I assist you?” asked an elderly gentleman wearing a sharp suit with a tape measure around his shoulders like a scarf. 

“These two need dress robes,” Hermione spoke up, pointing at Ron and Harry. “For the Yule Ball.”

The man looked at Harry and then did a double-take. “My Goodness! You’re Harry Potter.” 

Harry smiled wanly, and did exactly what Kingsley taught him to do in this situation. Remain polite but impersonal. “Yes. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. -”

“Mr. Twill,” he answered, pumping Harry’s hand heartily. He turned to Ron and Hermione, “That must make you Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.” He took in turns to shake both of their hands. 

“Pleasure,” they murmured. 

“Well, my dears,” he said tottering around them excitedly. “Of course. Of course we can get you fitted for new dress robes.” Mr. Twill began pulling robes off racks and hanging them, in mid-air, next to Ron and Harry. “Harry Potter in my shop. I tell you,” he murmured to himself. Harry fidgeted a little, feeling slightly embarrassed.  

Mr. Twill handed Harry a robe in dark navy with a velvet collar, and Harry pulled it on. Immediately he began sweating a little around his neck. “I’m not very fond of the collar,” Harry said apologetically. 

“No worries,” Mr. Twill assured him. “Try this one. It will look divine with your eyes.” The next one was green with silver threads running through it. 

“Er-” Harry didn’t know where to begin. “We don’t have Houses anymore at Hogwarts, but that looks awfully, well, Slytherin.” 

“And you, my dear, were a Gryffindor.” 

“Right,” Harry nodded. “If at all possible, I’d like to stick with classic black.” 

“Of course,” Mr. Twill agreed, nodding wisely. “You can’t go wrong with the classics.” He pulled another robe for Harry, which was inky black, and soft to the touch. 

Harry pulled it on and nodded. “Yes. I think this works.” 

“I much agree, Mr. Potter,” said Mr. Twill as he began pinning the robe. Harry, shorter than average, needed to have several inches taken from the bottom and from the sleeves, and needed the hems brought in on the shoulders. 

“Do you need a tie?” Mr. Twill asked. 

“Yes,” Harry answered. The only non-school tie he’d ever worn, had been to Bill’s wedding and was long since lost. 

“Since you have a black robe, we can get the tie to match your date’s dress. What color dress is she wearing?” 

“Er-” Harry stammered. “Well, she’s not?” 

“Sorry?”

“My date is-” he looked to Hermione for help. She always seemed to know what to say in these situations. Harry’d spent the last few months feeling comfortable in the confines of Hogwarts, he hadn’t given much thought to being out beyond the castle. But Hermione looked just as mystified as Harry. She gave him a small shrug. Harry looked at Ron, who mimicked Hermione’s shrug. “I’m not going with a witch, you see. My date is a wizard.” 

“Your date is what?” Mr. Twill looked confused. 

Harry decided to fake a confidence he didn’t feel. “I’m not going with a witch. My date is a wizard. Another bloke, like me.” 

“Like you?”

“Gay like me.” 

“I see.” Mr. Twill’s face was unreadable. 

“Right, so. There’s no dress for me to match my tie to, yeah?”

“Obviously.” Mr. Twill had stilled and was staring at Harry. 

After a few moments silence, Hermione interrupted loudly and brusquely, “Right, so maybe a black tie would be best then, Mr. Twill.” 

He sniffed, “Of course, Ms. Granger.” 

The mood had definitely shifted. Harry carefully pulled the pinned robe off and handed it to Mr. Twill who took it and wandered into an adjoining room. He came back with two black ties and held them out silently to Harry, who didn’t even really  _ care _ , and just wanted to get out of there, simply pointed to one. 

Ron held up one of the robes that Mr. Twill had pulled out for him, and said “I think I like this one.” 

“I suppose you’re his date then,” Mr. Twill said, somewhat rudely. 

Ron gave a patronizing smile. “No actually  _ she’s _ my date,” he said pointing to Hermione. “But I’m flattered you think I could catch a bloke like Harry.” 

Hermione snorted. “I’m wearing light blue,” she said to Mr. Twill. “But I prefer Ron in a white tie.” 

Mr. Twill began pinning Ron’s robe silently. Hermione’s arms were crossed over her chest and she was scowling openly at the older man. “Is this the only shop for robes and wizard wear in Hogsmeade?” she asked. 

“It is,” Mr. Twill nodded his head. 

She pursed her lips, “So you think you can treat your patrons however you want? Because it’s nothing for us to go to Diagon Alley and get our robes from Madame Malkin.” 

“Finished,” Mr. Twill said to Ron, who began taking his robe off. “Listen, Missy,” he said as he turned to Hermione. 

“It’s Ms. Granger,” she corrected him. 

“Ms. Granger. I’m perfectly willing to provide dress robes for any person who walks in here. I sell the finest robes, and I’m the best tailor in wizarding Britain. Misters Potter and Weasley will look splendid at your school dance. That doesn’t mean I have to approve of their choices of dates.” 

“Because Harry’s gay then?” 

“I don’t approve of Mr. Weasley’s date much at the moment either.” 

“Because I’m muggleborn, I suppose.” 

“Because you’re rude.” 

“ _ You’re _ rude,” Hermione shot back. “You were perfectly friendly when we walked in, but that changed real fast when you found out Harry’s gay.” 

“I’m old-fashioned. I don’t approve of certain things.” 

“Well, we don’t approve of bigotry. And no thank you on the robes. We’ll be going to Madame Malkin’s.” She sniffed and grabbed both Harry and Ron by the elbows and pulled them out of the shop. 

“Hermione, we can’t make it to Diagon Alley in time for the Yule Ball. That’s in London,” Harry pointed out, jogging to keep up with her. Hermione was stomping quickly down the lane. 

“Well, we certainly can’t buy robes from that creep!” Her voice was shaking.

“Where else can we get robes?” 

“Maybe Ron’s mum can send some of Bill or Charlie or Percy’s old robes. I could try to hem them for you.” 

“I’m taller than all of them,” Ron pointed out. "And we just walked out of the only tailor's shop nearby." 

Hermione stopped and thought for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “He just made me so angry!” 

“Oh blimey,” Harry said and buried his face in his hands. “This is it, right? This is going to be my life outside of Hogwarts? People judging me for being with Neville?” 

“Not everyone is like him,” Ron pointed out. 

“It’s not enough I have fame I don’t want. Hogwarts does a good job keeping my insulated from it a bit. But now this?”

“Harry,” Hermione put her arm around his shoulders. “Do you think Neville’s worth it?” 

“‘Course I do,” he answered. It was true. As painful as the encounter with Mr. Twill had been, Neville  _ was _ worth it. 

“Then just focus on that. People get bored of gossip soon enough anyway. So maybe Mr. Twill tells a few people. Maybe he doesn’t and word gets out after we graduate. It will be shocking for a blip in time, then hardly anyone will care. I mean, look at Malfoy. People are already used to him being at Hogwarts. That Englethorp kid keeps picking on him, but isn’t outright attacking him anymore. Neville and Seamus still hate him. But everyone else is used to him already.” 

Harry didn’t want to think about it anymore, so he simply asked, “What are we going to do about clothes for this dance?”

Hermione explained to Professor McGonagall what had happened at Gladrags, and while she couldn’t give them permission to go to London to Madame Malkin’s, she did suggest going to the village just beyond Hogsmeade, a mostly muggle village, with a men’s clothing shop. They wouldn’t be able to get robes, but they would be able to purchase muggle suits. 

In the meantime, Harry explained to Neville what had happened in Gladrags the next day in the greenhouse. “Well, thank Merlin Hermione was there to stop you from spending money at that old git’s shop,” was Neville’s response. 

“This doesn’t concern you?”

“‘Course I’m concerned about people like him. Blimey, Harry. Being old isn’t an excuse for bigotry. Look at Gran. She’s every bit as as old as that arse Mr. Twill, and she doesn’t care that we’re gay.” 

“I get that. But I mean, aren’t you concerned about what happens after we leave Hogwarts?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, here we’re sort of….protected, I guess, from the real world. And, face it, we’re kind of heroes and no one’s going to say anything about us being together. But out there?” Harry waved his hands vaguely toward the window, “ _ The Prophet _ and  _ Witch Weekly _ will be all over us when word gets out. And there’ll be a lot of other people like Mr. Twill who won’t want anything to do with us - “

“And I won’t want anything to do with them.” 

“Neville.” 

“Harry.” Neville grabbed Harry’s shoulders. “I know I’m making it out to be simpler than it is. But listen. This past summer, how many interviews did you give to the  _ Prophet _ ?” 

“None,” Harry answered. He’d spent the entire summer stubbornly refusing to talk to any media, except to release a few bland statements through Kingsley and the Ministry. 

“So we’ll do the same thing. Just refuse to talk about it, refuse to talk about  _ us.  _ Babe, if we don’t treat it like a big deal, it doesn’t have to be.” 

“You haven’t spent your life in the limelight. You don’t know how persistent they can be, how they can make up lies when they don’t get the truth.” 

“True.” Neville paused. “But for what it’s worth, I think surviving two of Voldemort’s killing curses is far more interesting than who you’re shagging. Maybe it won’t be worth it to them to lie about us if we act like it’s not worth talking about?” 

Harry smiled sardonically. “We’re more than just shagging, Nev.” Harry put his arms around Neville and pulled him in for a kiss. “And you’ve managed to make me feel loads better.” 

“Mmmm,” Neville hummed into Harry’s mouth. “Have I?” He murmured, still planting kisses on Harry’s lips. 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed softly, pulling back and resting his forehead on Neville’s. “Loads. But we’d better get out of the greenhouse. Anyone could walk by and see us.” 

“Right,” Neville snapped to attention. “Let’s go to the Room of Requirement.” He tugged Harry’s hand, and together they jogged toward the castle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'll be the last chapter I'm able to get up until the week after American Thanksgiving. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and commenting! Come back in about 3 weeks for the next chapter. I'm expecting this to be about fourteen chapters in total.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeyyyyy. Thanks for your patience in my lack of posting the last few weeks. I failed Nanowrimo, so there's that to show for it. 
> 
> I apologize in advance for what happens in this chapter. Is there a Happy Ending tag up there? Because you know, it's not going to be bad forever, so just try to get through these next harrowing chapters, m'kay?

The night of the Yule Ball was clear and freezing. The Great Hall had been decorated to look like a winter wonderland. Giant Christmas trees were covered in gorgeous decorations and in real snow charmed to not melt. A Menorah twinkled from the other side of the hall, all eight candles flickering brightly, adding warmth to the normally cavernous hall.  Though it wasn’t snowing outside, the enchanted ceiling was charmed to make it look like it was. 

Healer Dooley had helped Harry prepare for this. “This is my first big event since last year,” he’d admitted to her the week before. “I feel guilty for having fun.” 

She’d worked through some of her thought processes which showed how illogical that way of thinking was, not to mention how harmful it could be. “It’s OK to understand that you deserve to have a good time, Harry.” Neville would often say that to him as well. Harry hoped one day he might even believe it. 

Neville looked stunning in his black dress robe with black bow-tie. He’d scrubbed the dirt from under his fingernails, slicked his hair back, and was clean-shaven. Harry looked down at his own muggle suit, a slim-fitted black suit with a blue shirt and silver tie that Hermione had picked out. His hair was combed, but Harry knew it wouldn’t look that good for long. 

Neville raked his eyes over Harry’s frame. “You look amazing,” he said. 

“Thanks,” Harry said, unsure why he was blushing. “You too, Nev. You clean up nice.” 

Neville rubbed his smooth, freshly shaven cheek. “Thanks.” 

They shared a quick peck on the lips. 

“You guys ready?” Ron asked as he and Hermione stepped from the Boys’ Dormitory into the Common Room. Hermione’s dress was a light blue, strapless gown with gold detailing at the neckline. Her hair was sleek and elegant. Ron was in a suit also picked out by Hermione, which was three-piece in charcoal grey, with a white shirt and maroon necktie and maroon pocket square. He looked, Harry had to admit, rather handsome. 

Neville offered Harry his elbow, and Harry grinned as he took it. They followed Ron and Hermione out of the eighth year common room and into the Great Hall. 

They snagged a table with eight chairs, the four of them plus Ginny and Owen Wheeler, as well as Luna and her date, a seventh year girl called Hettie, who also used to be in Ravenclaw.  

Things with Ginny had become more comfortable recently, particularly now that she and Luna were best friends, and she had Owen, who she insisted wasn’t ‘really’ her boyfriend. But Harry would have thought otherwise, the way they looked at each other, despite being Quidditch rivals.

Dinner was magically served on the dot of seven. Each person had a choice of roast goose or roast beef, or like Ron, chose both. Sides of potatoes and perfectly roasted root vegetables adorned their plates. This Yule Ball was a quieter affair than the one in Harry’s fourth year. But then again, they’d had visitors from two other schools that time. Not to mention this was the first holiday after the war, and everyone was feeling their losses. 

Ginny, particularly, had gotten teary talking about how Molly had written her that George was coming to stay at The Burrow for Christmas. It was the first George had really reached out since Fred died. “I kind of wish I’d gone home for the holiday break,” she admitted. “But mum insisted I stay here, and go to the Yule Ball to try and keep everything as normal as possible.” 

“Well, how’s Percy doing?” Harry asked. Ginny seemed to be more interested in keeping up with news at home than Ron was. 

“Gone looking for a job,” Ginny said. She laughed a little ruefully, “No surprise there. I’m sure he and mum were at each others’ throats.” 

As the others were talking, Harry took time to let his eyes wander around the Great Hall. He saw Draco, dressed in a resplendent green dress robe, sitting next to Lavender who was wearing a very elegant red dress, and even red high heels, though her legs were still strapped in her wheelchair. The looked like a Christmas advert in their red and green. They were sitting at the same table as Padma and Parvati, along with their dates, Terry Boot and a seventh year boy Harry recognized by face but not by name. Whatever problems Neville and Seamus still had with Draco, Padma and Parvati had obviously forgiven him. All six at that table were talking and laughing, and Harry couldn’t help noticing, that whenever Draco would look at Lavender, his gaze was rather adoring. It was a face Harry couldn’t remember Draco ever making. 

Harry continued to look around, and did a quick count. It appeared that nearly all of the students from fourth year and above had stayed on at Hogwarts for the holiday break. Everyone was dressed in their finest, and everyone seemed to be doing their best to stay cheerful. 

Even the professors were maintaining an upbeat attitude. Some of the Professors had brought dates. Harry waved to Bill Weasley, sitting next to Fleur who was positively glowing with radiance and, though it was too early for anyone who didn’t already know to see, the news of her pregnancy. 

Dessert consisted of several sponge cakes and toffee puddings. After everyone was stuffed full, the tables were magically moved aside and the dance floor was lit up. 

Harry wasn’t much of a dancer, but Neville insisted that Gran had taught him to dance and that  he’d lead. The first few songs were waltzes, but the students began to get bored before long, so the classical numbers were dropped in favor of the Weird Sisters’ latest. Harry was a terrible dancer to fast music as well, but he cared less as he looked around and saw nearly everyone was as bad as he was. 

He’d practiced a chant with Healer Dooley,  _ I deserve to have fun and have a good time. _ Surprisingly, it worked. Of all the things he’d done since being back at Hogwarts, this was the first that made him think that maybe everything would be okay. One day he’d get over his nightmares. He would be able to remember the dead fondly rather than seeing only their lifeless bodies when he’d think of them. The wizarding world would recover. 

Still, it made him sad when he looked over and noticed Draco showing Lavender his pocketwatch. She nodded sadly, and they said their goodbyes to Padma and Parvati, and left the Great Hall together side by side. Harry wondered where Lavender went when she transformed. He wondered how Draco was coming along with the potion, if he even had any of it ready yet. 

He shook these thoughts out of his head and concentrated on reminding himself to have a good time. Harry took it in turns dancing with Hermione, Ginny and Luna, though he mostly danced with Neville. In only the few months they’d been back, the students had gotten so used to the fact that Harry and Neville were together, that no one even glanced twice at them dancing in each other’s arms, or even at the occasional kiss. 

Luna even said to him, “If you and Neville hadn’t gotten together, I don’t think I would have been brave enough to bring Hettie as my date.” 

“You?” Harry asked in astonishment. “I’ve never known you to care what other people say about you.” 

Luna shrugged, “It might not have even occurred to me to ask her. Though I liked her quite a lot the year before last.” 

“You didn’t realize you’re gay?” 

“I’m not gay,” Luna said. “I never thought of other girls that way until Hettie. I’m usually more interested in boys. You know, in that way.” 

“Hmmm,” Harry nodded as he spun her around a bit. “I’m not really gay either,” he admitted. “I’m bisexual, but everyone just thinks I’m gay because I’m with Neville.” 

“You should correct them,” Luna said. 

“Why’s that?” It generally didn’t bother Harry too much to be thought of as gay. 

“It’s your truth,” Luna said simply, as the song ended. She took Harry’s hand and kissed his knuckle. “Thank you for the dance, Harry,” and she floated off to look for Hettie.  

  
***  
  


The ball lasted until midnight. At about a quarter til twelve, Harry stepped out of the Great Hall into the main entrance of the school. Neville had gone to the loo about ten minutes ago, but Harry hadn’t seen him come back into the hall. 

He wandered around, enjoying the silence, though his ears were ringing a little from the loud music. He wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going, just going in the general direction of the closest boys’ bathroom. Through the ringing in his ears he heard a slight commotion down a smaller corridor. Harry peeked his head around and saw Neville standing stock still,  looking slightly concerned and staring into a nook behind a staircase further down the hall.  

Harry watched for a few moments before taking a few steps toward Neville. He was nearly to Neville when Neville finally realized he was there and looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Harry,” he croaked. 

Harry looked behind the staircase and could make out Roger Englethorp pinning Draco Malfoy against the wall and holding his wand to Draco’s throat. Just like last time, Malfoy’s wand was lying on the floor. 

Harry leaped into action. He drew his wand and held it out,  _ “Expelliarmus!” _ he shouted and Roger’s wand was wrenched from his hand, and Harry caught it expertly out of the arc. 

“Potter!” Roger shouted. “This doesn’t concern you!” 

Harry ignored him, but he rounded on Neville. “You were just going to  _ stand _ there? What the fuck, Neville?”

“Harry, I just-”

Harry held out his hand, palm toward Neville’s face, blocking him from getting closer.  “I can’t believe you. This is un-god damn-believable.” 

“Oooh, is Potter mad at his wittle boyfwiend?” Roger Englethorp asked, affecting a baby voice. 

“Hey!” Neville and Draco shouted at once. 

“Stay right the fuck there, you,” Harry ordered Roger, and when he tried to run, Harry cast a quick binding curse on his legs, causing him to fall down. 

Harry bent down and picked up Draco’s wand and handed it to him. “I assume you threw it again.” 

“Yes,” Draco said. 

Harry noticed a few small burn marks on Draco’s neck where Roger’s wand had been held. Harry put his fingertips to them gently and Draco winced. “Go to Madame Pomfrey,” he said. “I’ll take him to McGonagall.” And he nudged Roger with his toe. 

Draco mumbled a quick, embarrassed thanks before passing Neville on his way back out the hall. 

“Harry,” Neville said. 

Harry shook his head as he lifted Roger Englethorp up from the floor onto his feet and started helping him shuffle toward McGonagall’s office. “I’m not talking to you now, Nev. Just go back to the common room.” 

Neville didn’t go back, but he also didn’t say anything else as he watched Harry forcing an angry Roger Englethorp along the halls. 

Harry left Roger with Professor McGonagall outside the Yule Ball and watched as they headed toward her office. Other students filing out of the just-ended ball glanced at him in confusion. “What’s happened, mate?” Ron asked. 

Harry sighed, “I’ll tell you later.” 

He, Ron, and Hermione trudged toward the common room. Neville was standing in the center of the room, waiting. “Harry, let’s talk about this.” 

“You’re damn right we’re talking about it,” Harry said through clenched teeth. Ron and Hermione looked shocked, as Harry pulled Neville’s arm and drug him out into the hallway. They remained silent as Harry began jiggling classroom door handles, trying to find an empty space where he and Neville could talk. Finally finding an unused classroom filled with extra desks, and bookcases and cauldrons. 

“What was that about?” Harry asked furiously. 

“I heard a noise and went to see what was going on,” Neville said. 

“And when you saw Draco being tortured, you decided to do nothing?” 

“He seemed to have it under control-”

“He didn’t even have his fucking wand!”

Neville ignored Harry’s outburst and continued, “And far be it from me to step in and help a guy who wouldn’t lend a hand to me if it came down to it.” 

“You’re kidding me, right?” 

“You don’t give a damn what happened here last year,” Neville accused Harry. 

“That is dragonshit. You  _ know _ I care. If I didn’t care what was going on here last year, what the hell was I doing freezing my arse off all over the countryside just to make it safer here?” 

“He tortured kids, Harry.” 

“Neville, I know, and-”

“Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. When a kid would get in trouble, always the half-bloods mind, the Carrows would order those three to use the cruciatus curse on them. And they did. Fuck, Malfoy actually  _ requested _ the Carrows give him first shot.” 

“You’ve told me.  And you know his hand was being forced.” 

“They tried to make me do it to, and you know what I did?” Neville didn’t wait for an answer. “I refused.” 

“You’re brave,” Harry said. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“No! I didn’t refuse to do it because of some desire to stroke my ego and think I’m brave. I refused because it’s the cruciatus curse, and I wouldn’t do that to  _ anyone. _ ” 

“I understand,” Harry said. “But Malfoy was in a shit position last year. He was put there by his parents, he didn’t choose any of that for himself.” 

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Neville said darkly. “Poor little non-orphaned rich boy. He’s a coward.” 

“God, yes! Yes, he’s a coward. I’m not denying that. The little shit doesn’t have a brave bone in his body. But Roger Englethorp was burning Draco’s neck with his wand. Draco wasn’t even armed, couldn’t defend himself. Nobody deserves that, not even cowards.” 

“I can’t believe you’re defending him, Harry. There were first years he used the cruciatus curse on last year. Eleven year old children.” 

Harry shook his head, “No. No, I refuse to believe the answer to what happened last year is to let angry people have a go at Malfoy.” 

“Roger Englethorp’s muggle-born mother spent most of last year locked up in Azkaban by Umbridge, taken in by a bunch of Death Eaters. Merlin, of course he’s going to want to lash out at the Death Eater that was allowed into the school.”

“Son of a Death Eater,” Harry corrected. 

“He got the mark.” 

“He was underage and got the mark by force.” 

“He wasn’t that far underage,” Neville said. “We’d already spent a year in Dumbledore’s Army, trying to fight the Death Eaters when he got the mark.” 

“We didn’t have Lucius Malfoy for a father,” Harry pointed out. 

“Right.  _ We _ didn’t have our fathers at all because of the Death Eaters.” 

“But not because of Malfoy.” 

“Why are you so insistent on defending him?” 

“You’re really forcing my hand on this one, Nev. He’s a git and a coward, but for God’s sake, he’s still a person. He’s fucking contrite, and he doesn’t want to be here at all. His mum is making finish at Hogwarts. And all I want, all I fought for last year, was a little peace in the wizarding world. Our bad guy is gone. Voldemort’s been defeated and if you’d stood by to watch while Voldemort was being burned, I wouldn’t have cared. But don’t act like Draco Malfoy is some kind of Voldemort, because you and I both know that’s a load of bollocks.” 

“Sure, he’s not Voldemort. I’ll give him that. He’s got the mark of Voldemort on him, and I don’t care if he has to live the rest of his life under a cloud of suspicion.” 

“And we should let people who were hurt by Death Eaters all just have their way with him?” 

Neville shook his head slightly. “No. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to step in and protect the bastard at every turn.” 

Harry and Neville were both shaking slightly, their fists clenched as they faced off. “Well that’s where we’re different,” Harry said quietly. 

“Yeah. You  _ do _ have the hero complex. You  _ do _ need to be told you’re brave.” Harry flinched a little, he’d never heard Neville be so cold, so cruel, in his words.  Neville realized a second too late that he’d just said something he was going to regret because his eyes widened and he immediately tried to backtrack. “No, Harry I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Stop,” Harry held out his hands to get Neville to stop speaking. “I just need you to know that when I walk out of that door without you, it’s not because you just insulted me. Because I’m a big boy, I can handle being told I have a hero complex. I want you to know that when I leave you behind it’s 100% because of your behavior this evening. The difference between you and Draco Malfoy is that you  _ are _ brave, but you sure didn’t choose to act it tonight. You turned your back on someone who needed help. You turned your back on an opportunity to be the bigger man, to make a real statement to the wizarding world about what kind of person you are, and what kind of world you want to live in.” 

“You’re leaving me over this?” Neville sounded incredulous. 

“Yes,” Harry answered. 

“Babe,” Neville said, taking a couple steps toward Harry and grabbing his shoulders. “Let’s talk it out.” 

Harry pushed Neville’s hands off his shoulders, “I can’t. I’m sorry.” He looked into Neville’s eyes, which were horrified and brimming with tears. “I have to go,” Harry said, and turned his back on Neville and raced out of the room, down the hall and back to the eighth years room, where he ignored all of the curious faces and went straight to bed. 


	11. Chapter 11

Harry had his worst nightmare yet that night. 

_ He was in the Room of Requirement, and it was filled with snakes. Harry was running through the room, but the farther he ran, the farther away the door was. He was trying to step over, jump over snakes, but there were too many of them. Soon they were even falling from the ceiling. He was searching for someone else - anyone else - but no one was there.  _

_ Somehow, he avoided getting bitten. The snakes didn’t seem bothered by him at all, so he stood still, snakes winding their way around his ankles as he looked around for a way out.  _

_ He heard a noise from across the room. Through the hissing he realized someone was calling for him, and it sounded as though they were in danger. He ran toward the voice, and as it got louder, he realized it was Neville.  _

_ “Nev!” he shouted. Then, “Ow!” as he looked down at where a snake had bitten his ankle. _

_ He shook his foot a little, then called out “Neville!” As soon as he said it, another snake sank its fangs into his other ankle.  _

_ “Harry!” called out Neville’s voice. _

_ Harry avoided speaking and followed the sound of Neville’s voice. Walking carefully over the snakes. Finally he saw Neville and he gasped. Neville was sitting on a chair, snakes wrapped around his wrists and ankles, holding him to the chair. “Harry,” Neville pleaded, “Help me.”  _

_ “Yeah,” Harry said and he started to run toward Neville. Another snake bit his lower leg. He had to remember to keep his mouth shut, the snakes only bit when he talked.  _

_ Before he could even get a few steps in, he heard another chorus of voices, “Harry! Help!”  Harry looked around, and saw several other people being held captive by snakes, just like Neville. Remus was there, trying desperately to reach his hand out to Tonks’ who was next to him. Hermione and Ron were struggling against their serpentine captors. Draco was there, his face pale, his only movement the blinking of his frightened eyes. Even Hagrid was in an oversize chair, the snakes binding him at least twenty feet long.  _

_ Harry looked around. There had to be a way, had to be something he could use to help his friends escape.  _

_ “Harry!” They were all begging now, pleading with him to help them, but he was powerless.  _

_ “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted tearfully. As he spoke, several snakes bit into his flesh. “Ow! Ow!” More bites with every ‘ow.’  _

_ He wanted to help. He didn’t know what to do, and all he could think to do was sink to his knees and cry and wonder how the hell he’d ever been sorted into Gryffindor in the first place. “I don’t know,” he cried, and then sobbed harder when the snakes overtook his body, biting him all over. He gave in. He let his friends get hurt, he let the snakes bite him and swarm all over him.  _

“Harry! Harry!”

He jolted awake, flailing his arms, sure that would get the snakes off him, but hitting Dean square in the face instead. “I’ll get you!” he called, thinking he could run and save his friends from the snakes. 

“You’re in bed,” Ron said, pinning Harry’s arms down, as Harry continued to fight him. “Wake up, Harry. It was just a dream.” 

Reality came into clearer focus and Harry could see by the dim light leaking in from the window that he was in his bed at Hogwarts. Ron was kneeling in bed next to him, holding his shoulders down to keep him from flailing about. Dean was next to the bed, rubbing his cheek where Harry’d accidentally struck him. 

“Huh?” He was breathing hard, his body was soaked in sweat. 

“Shhh….shhhh,” Ron said soothingly, pushing Harry’s damp hair off his forehead in a comforting way. 

“You OK now?” Dean asked. 

Harry slid out from under Ron’s grasp and sat up. He pulled his glasses off his side table and slid them on his face. “Yeah,” he said. But he wasn’t. His heart beat was still erratic and he couldn’t get the feeling of snakes sliding over his body out of his mind. He shuddered a bit as he looked around. 

He must have been shouting loudly. Every single other boy in the dormitory had the curtains opened on their beds and were watching Harry curiously. Everyone, that is, except Neville, whose curtains were pulled shut tightly. “I’m fine,” he said loudly, so everyone could hear. “Sorry, Dean.” 

“ ‘s OK,” Dean assured him. 

Ron was still kneeling at Harry’s side, looking at him curiously. “What?” Harry asked. 

“That seemed like a bad one,” he said and his eyes darted toward Neville’s bed. 

“It was,” Harry admitted. 

Ron grabbed his wand and pointed to his own bed, “ _ Accio pillow.”  _

“What are you doing?” Harry asked. 

“Sleeping in bed with you,” Ron said, fluffing his pillow and laying it next to Harry’s. 

“Ron, no.” Harry said. But Ron ignored him and climbed under the covers. 

“C’mon,” Ron said, patting Harry’s pillow. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “This isn’t necessary.” 

“Come  _ on,” _ Ron insisted. “I’m not leaving here so lie down and give me a quick cuddle.” 

Harry smiled despite himself and lay down next to Ron. They were both on their backs, side by side. 

“You OK?” Ron whispered. 

Harry shrugged. 

“You and Neville have a fight?” 

Harry sighed and pressed his fingertips into his eyes. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It was a bad one.”

“Huh,” Ron said. “I’m sure you guys will work it out.” 

Harry was quiet for a few moments. “Maybe,” he finally whispered back. But he wouldn’t count on it. 

__

Harry slept poorly the rest of that night. Though Ron’s presence was comforting, he couldn’t stop replaying both his fight with Neville and the dream. He thought they might be connected, but couldn’t be sure about it. 

He finally drifted off at nearly five in the morning, then woke up just over an hour later. He was on his side and Ron was spooning him, snoring lightly. As Harry’s exhausted mind came into focus, he realized he could feel Ron’s morning erection pressing into his back. Harry cringed as he scooted away from Ron and sat up. Ron rolled over to his back, still sound asleep. 

The curtains on Neville’s four-poster were still shut tight, so Harry got out of bed quietly, stretched his tight muscles, massaged his aching head and got dressed. He didn’t want to see Neville, wanted to avoid the awkwardness of them being at breakfast together, so he headed down to the Great Hall alone. 

The Great Hall was nearly empty. Only a few students were there, Malfoy included. Coming to breakfast at the earliest possible moment was one way Malfoy had avoided contact with his fellow students all year. Harry realized what a brilliant move that was. 

Harry nodded to Malfoy, but still sat at a different table alone, and food magically appeared in front of him. He ate silently and quickly, wanting to be finished before anyone else came to breakfast. After a few minutes, Malfoy had finished his breakfast and hesitated before walking over to stand next to Harry. 

“About last night,” he started. 

Harry interrupted him, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Malfoy fidgeted with his wand a bit and looked anxious, “I wanted to thank you.”

“Don’t.” 

“I hope you’re not taking it out on Longbottom. If I was him, I wouldn’t have helped me either.” 

Harry put down the piece of bacon he’d been about to bite into and looked up to meet Malfoy’s eyes. “I’m sorry you don’t think you’re worth defending.” 

Malfoy’s eye twitched. “I’m really not.”

Harry continued as though Draco hadn’t spoken, “But what happens between me and Neville isn’t really any of your business.” 

“It is if I caused the fight.” 

“He caused the fight,” Harry said. “Merlin, Draco. First you go ‘round taking the brunt of abuse for your parents choices in the war and now you want me to blame you for me fighting with my ex-boyfriend?”

“Ex?” Draco asked, incredulous.

“As of last night, yes.” 

“I’m not worth it,” Draco repeated. 

“It’s not really about you,” Harry said. “So don’t go getting your ego inflated. It’s about Neville’s actions.”

“Towards me.” 

Harry shrugged, “Yeah.  _ His _ choice about how to act toward you.” 

“You’re making a mistake.” 

“Why aren’t you telling people about the Wolfsbane?” Harry asked suddenly. He’d been curious about it for a while now. Why no one outside of himself, Malfoy, Lavender and Slughorn knew that Draco was working on Wolfsbane for Lavender. 

“What?” Draco asked, pulling a chair out and sitting across the table from Harry. 

Harry sighed. He sure wasn’t going to finish breakfast quickly with Draco sitting next to him. Harry took a bite of bacon and asked again, “I know you’re working on a new Wolfsbane potion with Lavender. Why aren’t you telling people about it?” 

“There’s a good chance it won’t work,” Draco explained. “And figuring it out could take years. I’m literally starting from square one. There’s no research on adding sleeping potions to Wolfsbane. And it’s fairly dangerous for Lavender to be testing these out. I might add too much sleeping aid and have to revive her. The sleeping aids might react badly to what’s already in the potion and not work at all. It’s very risky, and she’s willing to accept the risk. She’s been great about it, actually. But, you know. I have the dark mark and a lot of people wouldn’t like her accepting untested potions from me.” 

“God,” Harry said. 

Draco nodded. “It’s terrifying, honestly. Someone having that level of trust in me.” 

“You like her though.” 

Draco, who’d been staring at the table looked up sharply and met Harry’s eyes. He nodded. “She’s-” he cut himself off, shaking his head a bit. “Yeah,” he finally finished after a moment’s silence. “She let me watch her transform last night.” 

“What?” Harry asked. 

Draco nodded. “She has a place, it's a secret, where she goes to transform. She didn’t want me to stay the night with her, but she said I could see the transformation if I promised to leave right after, just for the sake of research…” he drifted off. 

“How was it?” Harry asked tentatively. 

“Terrifying,” Draco admitted. “She had Wolfsbane, you know, that Slughorn had given her. And I did need to see what happened during transformation so I have comparison for when I make a new potion. And it was awful.” Draco’s voice cracked and he took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again before saying anything. 

If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn those were tears in Malfoy’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

Malfoy cleared his throat, “Yeah, well. I was on my way back from Lavender’s secret spot when I was cornered by that cunt, Englethorp.” 

“Blimey, Malfoy.” 

They were interrupted by a stream of students filing into the Great Hall, all looking sleepy-eyed and tousel-haired. It was the winter holiday, after all, and classes wouldn’t resume for another week and a half. 

Neville came in with Dean and Seamus and immediately spotted Harry sitting at the table with Malfoy. He and Harry made brief eye contact. Neville narrowed his eyes and led Dean and Seamus to a table across the Hall. 

Harry sighed and stared down at his food, no longer hungry. 

Draco stood up and pushed his chair in. “Honestly, Potter,” he said in a sarcastic drawl that sounded more like the Malfoy Harry remembered from years past, “Don’t let me get in the way of shagging your boyfriend any longer.” 

“Again, Malfoy,” Harry retorted. “It’s not all about you.” 

Draco gave his familiar smirk, and headed out of the Great Hall without another word.

_____

The only thing that kept this Christmas from being his wort ever, was the last years Christmas and Godric's Hollow had been nearly deadly. 

He and Neville weren’t speaking. They weren’t even making any eye contact. They both went out of their way to be in different parts of the castle at all times. Even though there were no classes during the winter holidays, Neville still spent long days in the greenhouses. 

Harry spent most of his time with Ron and Hermione. They were sympathetic at first, but eventually Harry’s constant scowl and refusal to say nearly anything at all got to them. The last full day of the winter holiday, Ron and Hermione went to Hogsmeade together, and told Harry in very kind, but very firm, terms that they wanted to be alone. 

Harry wandered over to Bill Weasley’s office to help him with preparations in teaching the fifth years the patronus charm. 

“Are you able to produce your’s now?” Bill asked gently. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, er-” Bill stammered. “Well, I heard you and Neville called it quits, so I thought maybe you might not be in the right frame of mind.” 

The thing with a Patronus is that the more you conjured one, the easier it was to do. Harry had a lot of practice, and despite most of the last year and a half being utter shit, he did have a reserve of happy memories he could focus on in order to produce the Patronus. He pulled out his wand and thought about the specific feeling he had when Hagrid took him to Diagon Alley that day nine years ago. The way his stomach dropped with excitement. How much he'd loved Hedwig at first sight. “ _ Expecto Patronum!”  _

The silver stag leapt from his wand and cantered around Bill’s office. 

Bill looked on in awe. “Wow,” he said. He turned to Harry, “That’s amazing you know. I lost the ability to produce one after the battle last May. And I didn’t get it back until a couple weeks ago when I found out Fleur’s pregnant.”

“It’s about happy memories,” Harry explained. “You need to put aside your current feelings and just think about something really specific. The memory doesn’t even need to be clear, you just need clarity in remembering how you  _ felt _ during that memory.”

“Huh,” Bill said thoughtfully. “I hadn’t heard it explained that way.” 

“It’s the only way I can continue to make one through...well, through everything that happened last year.”

“That’s really helpful, Harry. Thanks.” 

He and Bill worked on a lesson plan for a little while longer, before Bill announced he was headed home for one last lunch with his wife before the holiday ended. 

After that, Harry wandered around the castle. He stopped in the library and pulled random books out and thumbed through them without absorbing anything he was seeing. He left when Madame Pince started giving him the side-eye. 

As he was making his way back to the eighth years common room, he saw Healer Dooley heading toward her office, staggering under the weight of books. Harry jogged toward her, “Can I help you with those?”

“Oh hi, Harry,” she said. “Yes please, can you take a few of these?”

Harry grabbed a few books off the top of the stack she was carrying. He looked down at it,  _ Wizards and Trauma: The First Year.  _ Harry hated seeing books like this. As though Healer Dooley was reading it and somehow able to read his mind. It made him feel exposed. 

“How’s your holiday been?” she asked as they made their way to her office. 

“Awful,” Harry admitted before he could stop himself. 

“Why’s that?”

“Er-” Harry stammered. 

“Why don’t you come in and talk about it with me,” Healer Dooley offered. 

Harry wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted to do, but agreed anyway. He followed her silently into her office and set the books down on the ledge of one of her book cases. 

“So what’s happened?” She asked. “The holidays can be quite difficult the first year after losing someone.” 

Harry felt incredibly selfish in that moment. Because it’s not like he wasn’t sad about losing Remus and Tonks and Fred during the battle. He was in a constant state of sadness over it. He felt selfish because his shitty holiday had been more about his own breakup with Neville. 

But if you can’t be honest with a therapist, who can you be honest with? 

“I broke up with Neville.” 

“Oh!” Healer Dooley looked genuinely surprised to hear that news. She sat down in her chair, like they were having an actual session. “That’s, honestly, quite shocking to hear. What happened?” 

Harry didn’t sit in his usual seat. Instead he paced around the office, running his fingers along her books and taking in the titles. “We got in a fight.” 

“Do you want to be more specific?” 

Harry bit his lip. She was giving him an out, making it okay for him to not talk about it if he didn’t want to. And yet...he kind of wanted to. “He stood by and watched while someone was being bullied.” 

Healer Dooley raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?” 

“I know,” Harry turned to her and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I get that it doesn’t sound like something he’d do.” 

“No,” she said carefully. 

“But I saw it happen with my own two eyes.” Harry shook his head a little. “It was Draco Malfoy.” 

“Who was being bullied?” 

Harry nodded. 

“There’s some history there.” 

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “But that’s what it is, it’s history. History is stuff that happened in the past, and all we can do is change the present and shape the future. And I don’t really want to be with a person who’ll stand by and do nothing when someone’s being abused.” 

“So that’s what’s most important to you, in a relationship with someone. You want someone who shares your values about standing up for the little guys.” 

Harry looked at the ceiling. “I can’t even believe we’re sitting here calling Draco Malfoy one of the little guys.” 

“How about vulnerable?” 

Harry paused thoughtfully. “I think that’s a perfect way to describe Draco this year. He’s very vulnerable.” 

“Do you think everyone sees him that way?” 

“Obviously not,” Harry answered. “Neville doesn’t see him that way. I don’t think Seamus does either. And the guy who was threatening Draco sure doesn’t.” 

“So, it’s really a difference in perception.” 

“What? No,” Harry insisted. “I don’t really care if Neville agrees that Draco is vulnerable or not. I care about how he acts toward other people, and I  _ saw  _ him standing there doing nothing while some kid had an unarmed Draco pushed up against the wall with his wand digging right into his neck.” 

“What did Neville say?” 

Harry sighed. “He doesn’t care. Draco has the Dark Mark and Neville wants him to pay for it for the rest of his life.” 

“Forgiveness isn’t easy for some people.” 

Harry went quiet for a moment and sat down on the chair across from Healer Dooley. She waited patiently while he gathered his thoughts, and was surprised to hear him ask her, “Do you know who Peter Pettigrew is?” 

“Sure,” she answered. “He’s the guy everyone thought Sirius Black killed, but was actually an agent for Voldemort in hiding.” 

“Right,” Harry said. “Well, in my third year I came face-to-face with him. I knew before nearly anyone else that he wasn’t dead, and that it was he who was responsible for Voldemort murdering my parents. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were with me that night, and they were ready to kill him.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“And I stopped them doing that.” 

“Okay…” she said, in a voice indicating that she wasn’t sure where Harry was going with this. 

He continued. “And because I let him live, he escaped. And he found Voldemort, and brought him back to life, and because of  _ that _ , my Godfather Sirius died, and Cedric Diggory died, and we had a war and a lot of other people died and my friend Lavender got injured and became a werewolf.” 

“Harry, that’s-”

But Harry interrupted her, “But despite all that, I don’t regret not killing him that night.” 

“You don’t?”

“No.” Harry said. “Voldemort was going to find his way back eventually anyway. And the narrative would have been similar. Maybe Sirius would have lived, but maybe someone else, like Ron or Hermione or Neville, would have died instead. So, no. I don’t regret letting him live. I think when you’re faced with something like that, you should usually err on the side of not killing, not hurting someone. You should err on the side of standing up for someone being hurt, even if that person might not deserve it. I'm honestly not sure whether Peter Pettigrew deserved to live or die that night. But he wasn’t going to get killed on my watch.” 

“That’s a surprisingly healthy outlook on Peter Pettigrew.” Healer Dooley said. 

“Well, I’ve had years to mull it over.” There was a pause and he added, “I don’t care if Neville forgives Draco. I really don’t. I don’t think that forgiveness is a sign of strength. But I think sticking up for someone who is vulnerable, even when that person’s been horrible in the past, is a sign of-” he broke off, searching for the right word. “I think it’s a sign of goodness. Even more than strength or bravery, it’s a sign of plain  _ goodness. _ And that is what I want in a partner.” 

“I can’t argue with that,” Healer Dooley said. 

“So you don’t think I was wrong to break up with Neville?” 

“I think you answered your own question, Harry. You place a high value on goodness in a partner. And you need to be with someone who demonstrates that.” 

“I don’t feel good about it,” Harry said. “It’s not like I’m sitting here thinking I’m superior to Neville for sticking up for Draco. All I’m feeling is that I miss him.” 

“Breakups are difficult, and you’ve had a year and a half of nonstop difficulty, Harry. It’s okay to miss him and feel like you did the right thing in calling it off.”

“It still hurts,” Harry admitted. 

“I know it does,” Healer Dooley said soothingly. “It does and it will for a while. You can come talk to me if you ever feel like it. You don’t need to wait for our next session.” 

“Sure,” Harry said dismissively. He didn’t love his sessions with Healer Dooley. They often left him feeling open and wounded immediately after. But he did keep coming back for some reason, week after week.


	12. Chapter 12

Things got a bit easier once classes resumed after the New Year. Not that Harry was any happier, but he was at least busier. N.E.W.T level work made the O.W.L.s look like child’s play, and even though Harry was only going to sit for N.E.W.T in three classes (Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions), it still was a lot of work. 

Charms was the only class he and Neville shared, which means that didn’t have to see each other very often. Hermione had galantly given up her seat next to Ron so that Harry could sit with Ron in Charms class, while she sat with Neville. Not that that was very easy for her to do, Neville was angry with both Ron and Hermione who’d wholly taken Harry’s side in their fight. 

Having broken up with Neville seemed to make all of the death and the loss from the previous year that much harder to deal with. And the guilt of keeping his fellow eighth-years awake at night finally got to be a little too much for him.  Harry finally broke down and told Healer Dooley about his nightmares. 

“How often?” she asked. 

“Nearly every night.” 

She paused and raised her eyebrows. “Since when?” 

Harry thought back, “Since right after the war. Like May third or something.”

“Are you telling me, you’ve been waking from nightmares almost every night for the last eight months?” 

“Yes.” 

“And the nightmares are all about the war.” 

“Or leading up to the war. Like, things that happened last year. Being trapped in Malfoy Manor, not escaping the LeStrange vault. The Room of Requirement burning down. But in all of them people I love die.” 

“Do you have more than one a night?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“How do you get back to sleep?” 

Harry thought for a moment. “It was easier when Neville was there,” he admitted. “He’d crawl into bed with me from his bed. Now Ron sometimes will lie with me.”

“So,” Healer Dooley closed her eyes like she was trying to come to terms with this information. “Tell me about how much sleep you’re getting at night.” 

“Um,” Harry thought for a moment. “Right, I go to bed about midnight, sometimes a bit earlier. And I usually wake from a nightmare a couple of hours in. And that’ll keep me up about an hour, then I fall back to sleep, but I can never stay asleep for long and I’m up right around six or seven.”

“That’s like five, maybe six hours of interrupted sleep a night.” 

Harry shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Nightmares can’t get better until you’re well-rested.” 

“Well, I can’t get better rest until the nightmares stop.” 

“First things first,” Healer Dooley said, in a no-nonsense voice, “You need to go to bed earlier. If your sleep is going to be interrupted by a nightmare, you need to at least try to get more sleep. Promise me you’ll get to bed  _ no later than _ eleven tonight.” 

Harry sighed, “Sure.” 

“Next, I’m going to check with Madame Pomfrey about getting you to take a Draught of Dreamless Sleep.” 

“Those are supposed to be-”

“Only used in an emergency,” Healer Dooley finished Harry’s sentence. “Harry, please let me assure you that  _ this _ constitutes an emergency. Having nightly nightmares for months on end, nightmares that keep you from getting a full night’s sleep, is absolutely no way to live. You don’t realize it now, but your quality of life will drastically improve when you get solid sleep.” 

“OK,” Harry said dully. 

Healer Dooley looked at him, one eyebrow raised as though she was expecting Harry to argue with her. “This is OK with you?” 

Harry sighed, “I was going to disagree, but then I realized I’m too tired to even care. So, yeah. Get me the potion.” 

“Let me speak with Madame Pomfrey, and she and I will work out what amount you’ll need and for how long.” 

Harry shrugged. He felt like he’d been shrugging an awful lot lately. His whole life seemed to be one big shrug, where he honestly didn’t care much about what happened one way or the other. 

______ 

Two days later, Draco Malfoy was working with Professor Slughorn in his potions lab. Madame Pomfrey entered the room, “Pardon me, Professor.” 

“Hello, Poppy!” Professor Slughorn said happily. “What can I help you with?” 

“I find myself in need of a few additional bottles of the Draught of Dreamless Sleep, and I was hoping you’d be able to help.”

“Of course,” Slughorn answered. “That would be excellent practice for Draco here.” He turned to Draco, “Is this a potion you’ve made?” 

“No,” he answered. “I’ve perfected normal sleeping potions, but not a Draught of Dreamless Sleep.” 

Slughorn turned back to Madame Pomfrey, “It takes two days for a full brew. I will bring it to you as soon as we have it ready.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” Madame Pomfrey said, and scurried out of the room. 

“Do you know what the ingredients are for the draught?” Slughorn quizzed Malfoy. 

“Um,” he glanced up at the ceiling as he thought and began ticking off on his fingers, “Kava Root, Sinuichi from Mexico only, and White Lotus extract are the active ingredients, right?” 

“Good,” Slughorn said encouragingly. 

“You mix it with frog spleen, oil of argon, and bubotuber pus. Heat it for twenty two minutes just under a boil, then let it sit for forty-eight hours.” 

“Excellent!” Slughorn said proudly. “You have an excellent knack for potions you haven’t even made yet.” 

Draco smiled wanly, and Slughorn continued. “Kava and Sinuichi are powerful sedatives, obviously. So I will write you a note to get them from the restricted section of the greenhouses. Why don’t you go now, and we can get started on it immediately? Some poor kid probably needs this potion pretty badly.” 

Draco didn’t say, but he had a feeling he knew who the poor nightmare-having bloke was. He took the note from Slughorn and left the castle, making his way down to the greenhouses. 

_____

Neville was working quietly on his own in greenhouse number two, when he was interrupted by the door creaking open. He looked up and his stomach sank to see Draco Malfoy standing in front of him. 

“What?” he asked, a bit rudely. 

Draco put on an impassive face and held a note out to Neville, “Professor Slughorn needs these ingredients.” 

Neville waved his hand about, “I trust you know what you’re looking for. Take what he needs then.”

“Two of them are in the restricted section,” Draco explained. He felt color rise in his face when he recognized the inferior position he was in here. Longbottom was allowed in the restricted section because of his work with Professor Sprout. Usually, a student working closely with Slughorn would be allowed in the restricted section of the greenhouse. But Professor McGonagall’s trust in Draco, former Deatheater, only went so far and he'd never been granted permission to use the restricted section of the greenhouse or library. 

Neville looked skeptical and grabbed the note from Draco and read it over quickly. “Kava and Mexican Sinuichi? These are powerful sedatives, what do you need them for?” 

“Madame Pomfrey has requested a Draught of Dreamless Sleep,” Draco said. He could see on Longbottom’s face that he was working it out on his own. They both left the obvious unsaid - that this was most likely a potion for Harry. 

Neville cleared his throat. “Fine. You go get the White Lotus, over in that corner and I’ll get cuttings of the Kava and Sinuichi.” Neville pulled on a pair of dragon-hide gloves and went to the far corner, where signs indicating it was  _ Restricted: Authorized witches and wizards only!  _

Draco grabbed a White Lotus plants and put it in a wooden pallet, and waited quietly and patiently for Neville. Neville came to where Draco was standing and handed him a thick cloth bag, “Here’s the Sinuichi.” 

“Thanks.” Draco took it and placed the bag next to the White Lotus in the pallet. 

“Do you have any dragonhide gloves?” Neville asked. 

“Not on me.” 

Neville put the plant down carefully and grabbed a spare pair of gloves and handed them to Draco. “Keep the gloves on,” he instructed. “This is a powerful plant, and touching it with your bare skin even for a second will knock you out cold for a good ten minutes. Extended contact will put you in a coma.” 

Draco knew all this, but decided to let Longbottom feel good about himself for knowing something, so he nodded in understanding. “Right. Keep the gloves on, don’t let it touch my skin.” 

“Wear the gloves when you’re brewing,” Neville said. 

“Right. Well, I’ll be working on it with Slughorn, and I’m sure he knows that.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Draco took the plant carefully with his gloved hands and placed it next to the other plants in the pallet. “Thanks,” he said again. But he hesitated before picking up the plants. Finally he said, “You know, Longbottom,” 

“Nope,” Neville said firmly. “We’re not talking about it.” 

Draco huffed. “Just so you know, I  _ told _ Potter that he shouldn’t have called it quits with you over me. I’m not worth it.” 

Neville looked Draco in the eye, “Well, there’s something you and I can agree on, at least.” 

Wow. Draco had never known Neville to be cruel. It was shocking, actually, to hear something like that coming out of Neville, even if Draco did agree with it. He’d been an awful git, and there was very little he could do to make up for his actions the last several years. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he finally admitted. 

“For what it’s worth?” Neville asked. “I’m afraid your word is worth very little.” 

“Well, there’s another thing we can agree on, then,” Draco said. He lifted the pallet and raised it toward Neville, “Cheers.” And he walked out the door. 

Neville shook his head a bit. That had been uncomfortable. And if Draco was trying to get him on his good side by pretending he was contrite, pretending he actually felt sorry about anything he’d done, well. It wasn’t going to work. 

Still, Neville stood at the edge of the greenhouse and watched as Draco made his way back up to the castle. And because he was watching, he was able to see Roger Englethorp jump out from behind a shrub and hit Draco square in the chest with a stunning spell. 

Draco fell flat over and rolled down the hill a bit, the pallet of plants crashing beside him. Englethorp looked around sneakily and grabbed the pot of the Kava plant, knelt next to the stunned and unmoving Draco and touched the leaf of the plant to Draco’s face. 

Neville pulled out his wand and ran toward them as Englethorp pulled off one of Draco’s gloves and put it on himself, then grabbed the leaf of the Kava plants and rubbed it all over Draco’s slack face. 

“ _ Stupefy _ !” Neville shouted as soon as he got close enough. His stunner hit Roger in the shoulder and he fell over. 

“God,” Neville moaned as he got closer. The Kava plant had begun juicing and Neville could see streaks of it over Draco’s face. Thanking Merlin that he was still wearing his gloves, he slapped at Draco’s face. “Malfoy, Malfoy. C’mon wake up.” But Malfoy’s face remained slack, his eyes closed. He put his hands on Malfoy’s chest and could feel he was still breathing. 

Roger Englethorp groaned a little as he began to come to out of the spell. Neville grabbed his wand and did a quick leg-binding jinx to keep him where he was. “You bastard,” he spit out. 

Neville reached down, pulled Draco toward him and lifted him, bridal style, and ran toward the castle, trying to keep Malfoy's face from touching his own skin. Good God, Draco was a skinny thing. It was a stroke of luck that Hagrid happened to be walking out the front door of the castle. “Hagrid!” Neville called. “That kid down there attacked Malfoy! I’m taking Malfoy to Madame Pomfrey, please get that kid to McGonagall.” 

“Blimey,” Hagrid said, looking at Draco. “Is he dead?” 

“No, he’s breathing, thank Merlin. Just get that kid, his name’s Roger, to McGonagall now!” Neville didn’t wait for a response as he dashed toward the infirmary. 

A few students looked on curiously as Neville dashed through the halls of the castle and up a flight of stairs. Even though Draco was a skinny guy, he was getting heavy in Neville’s arms. But Neville was strong and his body was pumping with adrenaline. 

“Madame Pomfrey!” he called out as he kicked open the door to the hospital wing. 

She came bustling out of her office, “What happened?” 

Neville began to explain as he lay Draco on the closest bed. “He was attacked by a stunner after leaving the greenhouse. Then the kid who attacked him rubbed a Kava plant on his face.” 

“Oh no,” Madame Pomfrey said in a hushed voice. She pulled her own gloves on and immediately began wiping the Kava juice off Draco’s face with a piece of linen. “How long’s it been?” 

“Less than five minutes,” Neville said. “I saw it happen from the greenhouse and got to him as soon as I could.” 

Madame Pomfrey  _ tsked _ quietly. “Five minutes is quite a long time to have contact with Kava.” 

“I know,” Neville said. “It happened so fast, and I moved as quickly as I could.” 

“I know you did,” Madame Pomfrey assured him, as she took Draco’s pulse. “Where’s the student who did this to him?” 

“Hagrid took him to McGonagall.” 

“Very good.” 

“Will he be OK?” Neville asked. 

“He will wake up eventually. But you know, just one touch of the plant is enough to knock a person out for ten minutes. Five minutes of his skin soaking in the juices? I’m afraid I’ve never seen anything like this. It could be days? Perhaps weeks before he awakens.” 

“Blimey,” Neville said. He looked down at Draco who didn’t look injured, merely asleep. “He and I didn’t get along, but I never wanted this.” 

Madame Pomfrey patted Neville’s arm comfortingly. “I know you didn’t, dear. I’m going to get Mr. Malfoy into a hospital gown since he’ll be here a while. Then contact his mother. Why don’t you go report to Professor McGonagall?” 

Neville took one last look at Draco. He reached out and shook Draco’s shoulder a little, “Hey. If you can here me, I hope you wake up soon.” Neville looked up at Madame Pomfrey, “Can he hear me?” 

“I believe so, yes.” 

Neville nodded his understanding, then left the hospital wing to go see Professor McGonagall. 

______

 

Word spread quickly through the castle. Roger Englethorp had been expelled from Hogwarts and Draco Malfoy was fighting for his life in the hospital wing. And Neville Longbottom was a hero for saving him. 

Everyone kept approaching Neville, wanting the full story, but he refused. He hid out in the eighth year boys’ dormitory. He’d talk to his fellow eighth years, but not about Malfoy. Not about what he’d seen, how he felt about saving Draco. 

Because the truth was, it had been instinct. Unlike the night of the Yule Ball, Draco seemed to be in  _ real _ danger. And the fact that Neville had saved him didn’t mean that Neville forgave Draco for any of his actions the year prior. As a matter of fact, Neville happened to agree that Englethorp deserved to be expelled, he couldn’t quite help but feel sorry for the guy. Obviously he hadn’t been working through his anger issues in a healthy way. 

Then again, Neville probably hadn’t been doing that himself either. 

A couple of days after the attack, Neville went to the hospital wing to see how Draco was doing. He stopped in his tracks to see Narcissa Malfoy sitting at her son’s bedside, holding his hand and staring out the window. Draco was still unconscious. 

“Mr. Longbottom,” she said. Her voice was soft and cool. “I believe I have you to thank for saving my Draco.” 

Neville shrugged, “I was just in the right place at the right time.” 

“Don’t be modest,” she said. She gestured toward a chair on the other side of the bed, “Please have a seat.” 

Neville couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than sit and have a chat with Narcissa Malfoy the Deatheater over top the body of her unconscious son. But Augusta Longbottom had raised a polite boy, so he sat dutifully. 

“Madame Pomfrey said it will be a few weeks before he wakes up,” Narcissa said. 

“I know.” Neville nodded. “He got an awful lot of Kava juice on his skin for an extended period.” 

“It would have been worse if it wasn’t for you.” 

“Anyone would have done the same.” 

“No they wouldn’t have.” 

Neville didn’t answer her. So Narcissa tried again. “I know things have been unpleasant for Draco this year. I thought if he came to school and was contrite, it would help him in the long run. It appears I was wrong.” 

“Well, people are still angry about last year.” 

“I understand that.” 

Neville waited for her to argue with him, maybe tell him why people shouldn’t be angry with the Malfoy family. Instead, she said nothing, looking resigned to her fate as a pariah. 

_____

In the hallway, Harry was comforting a sobbing Lavender Brown. “What if he never wakes up?”

“It’s OK,” Harry was kneeling next to Lavender’s wheelchair, patting her on the back. “Madame Pomfrey said it should be only a few weeks.” 

“A few weeks when I can’t even visit him!” Lavender choked on a sob. 

“Why can’t you visit him? Let’s go visit him right now, I’ll go with you.” 

“His mother’s there.” 

“So?” 

“So, she doesn’t know about me and Draco. I’m muggle-born and she might not approve.” 

“She doesn’t know Draco took you to the Ball?” 

“She doesn’t know  _ anything. _ She doesn’t know about the Wolfsbane, or that Draco and I’ve been sleeping together for the last two months-” 

“I didn’t know that,” Harry interrupted. 

“Or that he took me to the Yule Ball. She probably doesn’t even know that I exist!” Lavender cried harder. 

“Blimey, what a cowardly little git.” 

“Hey,” Lavender sniffed, frowning at Harry. 

“I’m sorry, Lav. But it’s true. He’s a man now. He’s of age and he can’t even stand up to his racist mummy on behalf of the girl he’s obviously crazy about? This is bullshit,” Harry stood and held his hand out to Lavender. “This is bullshit. We’re going to see him, and you’re going to look his mum in the eye and tell her you want to visit Draco. You don’t have to tell her you’ve been shagging her darling son. But you’ve every right to be there, next to him.” 

“And you’ll come with me?”  

“You’re damn right I will.” Harry turned on his heel and marched toward the hospital wing door. He was angry on Lavender’s behalf. A girl who’d nearly sacrificed her life, and found herself with two major injuries had a right to see her boyfriend. Even if that boyfriend was a cowardly little arse like Draco Malfoy. Lavender was being kinder to Draco than his own mother had been, and she had a right to see him. 

Harry reached the hospital wing door with Lavender’s wheelchair right at his heels. He swung the door open and stepped in, but came to a sudden halt when he saw Neville sitting across from Narcissa Malfoy. 

“Oh,” he said. 

“What?” Lavender asked and she wheeled around Harry and saw Neville sitting there. “Oooh,” she said knowingly. She gave Harry a look that clearly said,  _ Well, now it’s uncomfortable for both of us.  _

“Mr. Potter, are you here to visit Draco?” Narcissa asked. 

“Er-yes,” Harry stammered. “Me and Lavender came to see how he’s doing.” 

“Well, there’s been no change, but you’re very welcome to stay.” She waved her wand and another chair appeared right next to Neville’s. 

Harry sat down in the chair, but positioned it so his body was slightly turned away from Neville. Lavender rolled up to the bed her eyes on Malfoy’s prone body. “Is he going to make it?” she asked quietly. 

“Yes.” Narcissa nodded. “Madame Pomfrey is taking care to get him nutrient potions several times a day. He will lose weight, but he will live. We just don’t know how long he will be unconscious.” 

Lavender bit her lip, and Harry recognized she was trying not to cry. “Mrs. Malfoy,” he decided to introduce Lavender. “This is Lavender Brown.” 

Mrs. Malfoy smiled, “It’s nice to meet you. Draco told me that you and he are working together in Potions class.” 

Lavender looked surprised, “He told you about me?” 

“Well, yes. He came back to Hogwarts specifically to work with Horace Slughorn on getting his Potions Mastery and he said that you were assisting him.”

Harry and Lavender’s eyes met, both looking surprised. “He’s been doing most of the work,” Lavender explained. 

“I’m sure you’re helping too,” Narcissa reached out and patted Lavender’s knee uncomfortably. “He told me I’m not allowed to ask what type of potion you’re working on, and I just want you to know I’ll respect that.”

“Thank you,” Lavender said. So, Draco had said something to his mother at least. Even if Narcissa seemed unaware that Lavender was Draco’s girlfriend, she knew of her existence. That pleased Lavender. 

Narcissa turned to Harry, “Draco told me that you have stood up for him a couple of times when he was being bullied. I want to thank you for that.” She was beginning to look pained at having to make small talk with this many Gryffindors who’d she’d been fighting against just a year earlier. 

“It’s what Dumbledore would have wanted.” 

“Indeed,” Narcissa nodded. 

“I’m certain that having you three here has helped Draco immensely.” 

Neville snorted. Narcissa looked at Neville, her eyes full of unasked questions, but she said nothing, and neither did Neville or Harry. 

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Lavender said trying to break up the tension, “Draco’s been real helpful around the castle this year. He’s been giving people help with potions, like Harry here. Right, Harry?” Lavender prompted him. 

“Er-yeah,” Harry said. Neville was openly scowling. “He’s, you know, better at potions than I am and he was real helpful to me back when I was trying to learn veritaserum.” 

“Thank you. That’s pleases me to hear it,” Narcissa said, her eyes still darting toward Neville. 

The four lapsed into another silence. Harry was just getting ready to stand up and excuse himself, when the door opened and a boy carrying a vase of wildflowers entered. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“What are you doing here, Alfie?” Neville asked. 

“Oh, hi Neville.” Alfie said. 

Harry recognized Alfie by face only. He was a third year boy, one who often said hello to Neville in the halls. Just one of a string of younger students who treated Neville like he hung the moon after last year. 

“Mrs. Malfoy, I brought these flowers for Draco’s bedside. Professor Hagrid helped me pick them.” 

“That’s very kind of you, Alfie.” She took them from him and set them on the bedside table. “You hear that, Draco? This young man brought you flowers.” 

“Have you gone mad? Has the whole world gone mad?” Neville asked Alfie. “Do you remember, does  _ anyone _ remember what Draco did last year?” 

“Nev,” Harry pleaded, and Alfie’s face went red. 

“This is unbelievable,” Neville shook his head and stood up. “I feel like I’m living in a fantasy land. Alfie, Draco used unforgivable curses on you last year! Did you forget that?” 

“Well,” Alfie said quietly. 

“Well what?” Neville shouted, looking for an argument. 

“I’m half-blood, you know. And my mum, who’s a muggle, gave me ballpoint pens to bring to Hogwarts instead of an ink and quill last year. Because muggle pens just make more sense than an ink and quill.” 

“I know all this.” 

“Right, but you don’t know all of it. And I don’t think Mrs. Malfoy knows any of it.” 

Neville sat back down, and all four of them had their eyes fixed on little Alfie. “So the Carrows found out I was using a muggle writing instrument, and my punishment was to take the cruciatus curse. They tried to make you do it, Neville. Remember?”

“Of course. I refused and _I_ got the shite kicked out of me by Amycus and Draco _happily_ took my place.”

“Right. Except not really. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to expect, but I’d seen Goyle use the curse on other half-bloods. And I knew it was going to be painful. And Draco looked malicious. He looked like he was going to enjoy it and he got in my face and threatened me and I almost wet myself. Then he whispered “ _ fake it _ ” in my ear. I didn’t know what he meant. Until the curse hit me and it didn’t hurt at all. Maybe a light buzzing through my body, but I knew I had to fake it. So I fell to the ground and screamed in agony. And Draco and his friends sat there and laughed.” 

“What?” Neville asked. 

“When any of us half-bloods were tortured we always hoped it would be Draco who had to do it, because it became this thing that was known about him. That he did something to make the cruciatus...well, not hurt. We all knew to fake it. One day we were whispering about it in the halls and Draco overheard us and threatened us for real. He said if we  _ ever _ told anyone he wasn’t really cursing us, he’d change his magic and we’d get the curse for real.” 

“Merlin,” Neville whispered. 

“But I figure now it’s OK to talk about it. So,” Alfie shrugged. 

Narcissa was openly sobbing, and Lavender had reached over and grabbed her hand and was crying as well. 

Harry had turned to Neville, his face slack with surprise. “You said Draco used to request to be the one to give the half-bloods the curse.” 

Neville’s eyes were wide and he looked back at Harry. He was speechless, so he simply nodded. 

After a few moments of stunned silence, Neville stood up suddenly. “I have to go,” he said, his voice unmistakably shaken. He ran quickly to the door. 

Harry stood up too, “Neville, wait!” he called as the hospital wing door slammed behind him. 

Harry ran out of the room, determined to find Neville. 


	13. Chapter 13

Neville had gotten a head start on Harry, but that didn’t deter Harry at all. He was pretty sure he knew where Neville was headed. 

Harry dashed through the castle, up the moving staircases, expertly jumping over the trick step and up to the seventh floor. He rounded the corner just in time to see Neville go into the Room of Requirement and the door disappear behind him. 

It’s not impossible to get into the Room when it’s already occupied and the door has disappeared, but it’s generally very difficult. Harry didn’t have quite the connection to the room that Neville had and wasn’t sure he could make the Room appear for him once Neville was in there. 

Still he paced in front of the empty spot on the wall and thought in desperation,  _ I have to see Neville. Please just let me see Neville.  _ The desire was an ache deep in his chest.

Sure enough, only thirty seconds later, the identical door appeared for Harry. He opened it quietly. 

The room was small. Probably not even ten feet by ten feet. The walls and floor were stone and there was no furniture in it. Neville was on the ground in the middle of the floor, on his knees and head bent over cradled in his hands and he was sobbing. 

“Neville?” Harry asked quietly, stepping in closer to him. 

Neville shook his head and kept crying. Harry waited patiently until Neville said. “I can’t even talk about it.” 

Harry sat down, legs crossed in front of Neville. “That’s alright. I can wait.” 

Finally, Neville began to take deep calming breaths, in through his nose and out the mouth. And he choked out, “I’ve literally never been so wrong about something in my life.” 

“It doesn’t make you a bad person.” 

“I thought I knew everything.” Neville shook his head. “You know, after the Yule Ball, I wouldn’t have  _ really _ let Draco get hurt. But I didn’t care that he was getting roughed up a bit. I honestly didn’t care, I was sure he deserved it. I was  _ positive _ he deserved it.” 

“It’s not like he let anyone know,” Harry pointed out. “You couldn’t have known.” 

“I couldn’t have known, but I also didn’t need to assume the worst.”

“Last year was so awful. Everybody’s judgment is clouded by last year.”

“Your’s isn’t.” Neville looked up for the first time, meeting Harry’s eyes with his own. “You’ve known from day one that Draco should be treated right.” 

“Believe me, that wasn’t about me going out of my way to be kind to Malfoy. That was a big-picture thing. Like, if I want the wizarding world to recover from last year, I just needed to see it done when it was difficult. It’s not easy, treating Malfoy like a-” Harry broke off. “Well, like he matters. Because you know, he was a Deatheater and he’s got the mark to prove it. His situation was just sort of convenient for me. To prove that I could be a bigger person.” 

“I wanted to be a bigger person too, Harry. But I failed.” 

Harry shook his head. “You’re not listening. I only treated Malfoy with kindness to make a point. And, selfishly I hoped it would help my nightmares.”

“If I’d stepped in on Englethorp after the Yule Ball, we wouldn’t even be here right now. This wouldn’t have happened, and Draco Malfoy wouldn’t be lying in a coma.”

“That’s probably not true,” Harry pointed out. “I stopped him that night and he still attacked Malfoy again.”

“He would have listened to me,” Neville said quietly. 

“How do you know? He didn’t listen to  _ me. _ ”

“No offense, Harry. But when it comes to the students at Hogwarts, they trust me more than you. Like, I was here for them last year and you weren’t.” 

“I was-” Harry started indignantly. 

“I know.” Neville didn’t even give him a chance to finish. “I know what you were doing last year, but a lot of them don’t. All they know is that you weren’t  _ here. _ So I really could have made a difference if I’d treated Draco right. It would have made a big difference to Englethorp, and I-” Neville broke off. “I-” he tried again, but dissolved back into tears. 

“Well if it makes you feel any better, the Kava plant Draco was getting from the greenhouse was for a potion for me.” 

“I figured,” Neville murmured. 

“Slughorn is making a Draught of Dreamless Sleep,” Harry explained. 

“Yeah. Draco told me. He didn’t say it was for you, but I think we both assumed. That doesn’t make me feel any better about this situation, Harry.” 

“What would make you feel better?” 

Neville thought for several silent moments, and finally shrugged. “I dunno,” he answered honestly. “I don’t think the guilt will ever go away.” 

“Malfoy isn’t dead,” Harry pointed out. “He’s going to wake up eventually, and when he does, I’m sure he’ll forgive you for the night of the Yule Ball. He already told me on Christmas Day that he doesn’t think that he was worth me and you fighting over.” 

“What are you trying to say, that he lost his arrogance this last year?” 

“Oh, Blimey. He’s lost so much arrogance, and is trying to pretend he hasn’t. I’m the one with nightmares, but Malfoy might actually be the most emotionally fucked from last year.” 

Neville bit his lip, “He was kind of a double-agent.” 

“Kind of,” Harry said. 

“It was really brave of him to not actually give the cruciatus curse when he was ordered to.” 

“It was braver of you to stand up for the half-bloods publicly,” Harry pointed out.

“You think so?” Neville asked. 

“Definitely,” Harry nodded firmly. “I get why Malfoy didn’t do it publicly, because Voldemort would have probably killed him in front of his parents. But it took him long enough to even get to the point of doing  _ anything. _ Dumbledore gave him the option of leaving the Deatheaters and being protected by the Order in our sixth year, but he didn’t take it. He was too cowardly. So yeah, doing this for the half-bloods was brave and even kind of him. But let’s not act like he’s suddenly perfect.” 

“He’s not perfect,” Neville admitted. “But he deserved better treatment than I gave him.” 

Harry leaned forward and lay his hand on Neville’s knee gently. “It’s all right,” he said. “You can talk to him when he wakes up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Neville said.

They grew quiet for a few moments before Harry leaned in and enveloped Neville in a hug. 

Neville hugged back and cried into Harry’s neck, “I’ve missed you.” 

Harry leaned back and placed his hand gently on Neville’s cheek. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much.” 

Neville grabbed Harry’s hand and kissed his fingers, “Can you forgive me?” 

“Of course.” 

“I swear I’ll always stand up for people who need it from now on.” 

“I know you will,” Harry smiled. “Blimey, Neville. You aren’t a bad person.” 

“I want to believe that.” 

“Healer Dooley and I figured out that I place a high value on people who will stick up for vulnerable people.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“You didn’t see Draco as vulnerable.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Neville said. “And I was wrong about that.” 

“But I still think you’re the type of person who  _ does _ stand up for vulnerable people.” 

“Are we un-breaking up?” Neville asked. 

Harry laughed at the wording. “Yes,” he answered. “If you’ll have me.” 

Neville’s eyes were bright and shiny, and he studied Harry’s face intently for a few moments before leaning in for a crushing kiss. 

Harry groaned under the intensity of the kiss, and leaned back as Neville crawled into his lap to get closer, to kiss harder. Harry gasped and opened his eyes wide as Neville kissed and bit at his neck. 

“Are we doing this here?” Harry murmured. 

“Yeah,” Neville grunted, grabbing his wand and performing a cushioning charm on the floor. 

The floor may have looked stone, but it felt like a bed as Harry lay down, pulling Neville with him in a deep kiss.

______

Two nights later at ten o’clock sharp, Neville walked with Harry to the hospital wing. The potion was ready, and Harry was going to spend the next few nights there, being monitored by Madame Pomfrey while getting dreamless sleep. 

Harry’d had nightmares the past few nights, and his sleep was still interrupted by them, but he was happy at least that Neville was there to crawl into bed with him to make him feel better after being woken up by visions of death. 

“You ready for this?” Neville asked, opening the door to the hospital wing and holding it open for Harry. 

“I’m ready to get a full night’s sleep,” Harry answered. He doubted that the potion would cure him of his nightmares long-term. But he didn’t doubt that it would work while he was taking it. And the more Harry thought about it, the more in tune Healer Dooley had urged him to be with his own body, the more he realized that he really wasn’t getting enough sleep. From trouble concentrating in class, to being snappy with his friends, to a dull aching behind his eyes that he’d gotten accustomed to, he realized he  _ needed _ to sleep better. 

They nodded hellos to Narcissa Malfoy, who was ever-present at Draco’s bedside. She was wearing a dressing gown, and reading a book by candlelight. 

Neville pulled the curtain around Harry’s bed shut, and Harry began stripping off his clothes and getting his pajamas on. They were talking and laughing quietly, Neville groping Harry as he got undressed. Harry leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss Neville’s nose. They didn’t have a lot of privacy, what with Narcissa right there, so they kept the curtain closed for another moment and cuddled on the bed together. 

As they heard Madame Pomfrey and Healer Dooley’s footsteps come closer, Neville sat up and pulled open the curtain. 

“Potter,” Madame Pomfrey said, “I’m glad you’re here. Healer Dooley explained the treatment to you, yes?” 

“Yes,” Harry said. “Full strength brew for three nights, half strength for the next three, and quarter-strength for the three after that.” 

“Correct,” she nodded, looking at Healer Dooley with approval. “That’s nine nights you’ll be sleeping in here.” 

“I’m sure the other eighth year blokes are thrilled to have me gone,” Harry said. 

“Nah,” Neville said, patting Harry’s knee reassuringly. 

Harry looked at Neville with a cocked eyebrow. “I know what a nuisance I’ve been at night, keeping them all awake.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Neville said, as he watched Madame Pomfrey remove a stopper from a small brown bottle and hand it over to Harry. 

Harry took it and tipped the contents into his mouth then settled into bed, fluffing his pillow underneath him. “This is not a fast-acting potion,” Madame Pomfrey explained. “It won’t knock you out immediately. The potion actually works the best if you can fall asleep on your own time, as you usually do.” 

“All right,” Harry said. He felt mildly tired, which is how he always felt these days, but not especially exhausted. 

“Mr. Longbottom is welcome to stay with you until you fall asleep,” Madame Pomfrey said. 

Neville didn’t need to be told twice. He kicked off his shoes and lay back down next to Harry. 

“Good night, Harry,” Healer Dooley said. “I’ll be here in the morning when you wake up.” 

“Good night,” he answered. “And thanks. You too, Madame Pomfrey.” 

“Of course,” she said, smiling down at him. “Sleep well.” 

“You OK?” Neville whispered. 

“Yeah. The potion didn’t taste bad.” 

Neville kissed his shoulder, then leaned up to plant a kiss on Harry’s lips. “Night, Harry.” 

“Night, Nev. See you in the morning.” 

Harry closed his eyes and rolled to his side. Neville spooned him. Harry took a few deep breaths, and tried to match his breathing pattern to Neville’s. After about ten minutes, drowsiness took over, and then eventually, Harry fell into a deep dreamless sleep. 

The next morning, Harry awoke by himself at about seven thirty. It took him a few moments to realize where he was. The light streamed brighter into the hospital wing than it did into the eighth year’s boys dormitory. He rubbed his eyes, wondering what time Neville had left as reached for his glasses and sat up, looking around. 

Malfoy was in his bed, still unconscious. Narcissa had transfigured the chair where she spent her days watching over Draco into a bed. Harry stared at her for a few minutes. Asleep, she looked peaceful, almost happy. He’d never seen her looking like that before. Even before Draco had been attacked, Narcissa Malfoy always had a face that looked like she was smelling something foul, even when she was trying to be kind. 

Harry lay back in the bed, enjoying the peace and quiet. It’d been awhile since he could lay in bed under the covers and just….relax. Usually he had to get up, get to breakfast. But he figured he’d just lie around and wait for Madame Pomfrey to come around. He closed his eyes and let him mind wander. He thought about the sleep he’d just gotten, and how even though he still felt tired, he definitely felt more well-rested. He hoped to Merlin that this potion would work long-term. Because now that he’d had one night of restful sleep, he never wanted to go back to waking from nightmares again. 

Eventually, he heard Madame Pomfrey’s light footsteps coming toward him and he opened his eyes and rolled toward her. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Harry said. “I slept really soundly and I actually feel pretty rested.”

Madame Pomfrey smiled and patted him on the shoulder. They talked for a few minutes about the potion and its effects. Finally she told him that he could go, and she would see him back there tonight. 

Harry had a good day after that. He and Neville went to charms together, and had lunch together, then Harry went to work a little bit with Bill Weasley to help create a brand-new O.W.L. test for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The entire day, he felt a little lighter, a little happier. When Healer Dooley called him into her office just before dinner, she explained to him that even catching up on missed sleep a little bit would make him feel better. 

That night, Harry went by himself to the hospital wing. He drew the curtains around his bed and changed into pajamas, then opened the curtain and settled into bed with his potions text book and read, waiting for Madame Pomfrey. 

“Potter?” 

Harry looked up. It was Mrs. Malfoy and her face didn’t hold its usual cool impassive stare, but looked nervous. “Yes?” he asked. 

“You and Neville Longbottom are…” she drifted off. 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “We’re together.” He said it defiantly, daring her to say anything about it, but instead she nodded. 

Then she said something he didn’t expect. “Does that Lavender Brown fancy my Draco?” 

“Er-” Harry stammered. 

“I suppose I could ask her myself,” Mrs. Malfoy mused. “She’s a lovely girl.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It’s not really my business to tell anyone about someone else’s relationship. So,” 

“Of course,” Mrs. Malfoy said quickly. “If Draco  _ is _ in a relationship with the girl, I only wish he’d told me. I must admit, I’m surprised he’s in a relationship with a girl at all. I’d always assumed he preferred the boys.”  

“Oh,” Harry said awkwardly. He had no idea what to say to that at all. He was saved from this horrible conversation by Madame Pomfrey bustling out of her office, carrying Harry’s potion. 

“Mr. Potter,” she said, unaware she’d stepped in on a very awkward conversation, “Here is tonight’s potion.” 

Harry took it eagerly, not only anxious to get out of the conversation between himself and Mrs. Malfoy, but because he was anxious to get another night’s sleep that would leave him rested and relaxed. 

The following morning, Harry snuck out of the hospital wing before he could be roped into another conversation with Mrs. Malfoy, and arrived a few minutes late that night as well. 

All in all the potions seemed to be working. 

Harry visited Healer Dooley the day before he was supposed to take his first lower dose to discuss how he felt. 

How he felt was nearly giddy. 

“I don’t remember the last time I felt so good,” he admitted. 

“I told you a good night’s sleep would do that,” she said kindly. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But it’s even, like, I can still grieve for everyone I lost last year. But the whole world doesn’t seem so hopeless?” 

Healer Dooley smiled. “I’m glad it’s working.” 

“And you think it’ll keep working?” Harry asked. “You think I can take a lower dose and it’ll keep me from having nightmares.”

“Indeed,” she said. “Between the work we’ve done here in my office working on your underlying issues, and getting you caught up on the sleep you’d been missing, I think you are perfectly prepared to continue with the plan of a lower dosage.” 

They talked for a few more minutes, mostly about how his classes were going, and how things were going with Neville, before Harry left to meet his friends for dinner. 

He sat at the table at dinner, looking around at his best friends, Ron and Hermione, and at Neville, the boyfriend he’d grown to love more than he ever would have thought possible. And he realized all at once that what he’d said to Healer Dooley was absolutely true. Surrounded by the warmth of friends, he had a great sense of hope.

Everything would be all right. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's doooone. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been reading and kudo-ing and commenting!!! I love you all!

**_The Daily Prophet_ **

**_Special Edition: The Battle of Hogwarts: One Year Later_ **

_ The story of an historic Hogwarts graduation, as told by the eighth year students, returned to finish their education after last year’s deadly battle. Harry Potter opens up about how grief shaped his year, and who has helped see him through it. Hermione Granger discusses plans to create Muggle Liaison Office at the Ministry. And more stories from the Heroes of the battle!  _

_ Written by Martin Scrivener _

_ Graduation day comes mid-June every year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That is, until last year when there was no graduation. This is a new year, and the mood at Hogwarts has gone from grim at the beginning of the school year, to hopeful by graduation day.  _

_ Leading the campaign of hope is none other than Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World. Titles he doesn’t like, though accepts as fact.  _

_ “Voldemort and the Death Eaters tried to divide us last year. They tried to force us to live by archaic blood-status roles, and to take on anti-muggle beliefs. It didn’t work. My goal coming back to Hogwarts this year was to help mend, not only the physical school itself, but to mend fences between groups who might have been enemies last year." _

_Not that there weren’t speedbumps along the way. One student was expelled for attacking a former-Slytherin. Yes,_ ** _former_** _Slytherin. One of the ways to promote healing was to dismantle the way the students have been sorted for centuries. The sorting hat has been retired, and students were separated by year, rather than by what Headmistress McGonagall calls, “arbitrary personality traits.”_

_ It wasn’t enough to keep Draco Malfoy, the son of Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, safe from attack this year. It was he who was attacked by the eventually expelled student. Mr. Malfoy spent nearly four weeks in a coma, recovering from the attack. While some may not hold a lot of sympathy for Mr. Malfoy, word soon got around that in the year before the battle, he worked quietly and secretly in a singular resistance movement to help the half-blood students from the Carrow siblings’ torture. _

_ Mr. Malfoy was reluctant to talk about it, but was urged on by his supportive classmates. “It was nothing,” Malfoy stated with a shrug. “I had personal reasons for not being public in my hatred for the Carrow siblings.”  _

_ When pressed about those personal reasons, Malfoy gave this reporter a hard look. “I said it was  _ personal. _ ”  Though Malfoy was closed-off, there can be little doubt it had to do with his own parents’ Deatheater activities.  _

_ If Mr. Malfoy is reluctant to talk about last year, there are others who are not. Last month, Mr. Potter published a letter to the editors of both this publication, as well as The Quibbler, discussing the importance of seeking mental health healing after a traumatic year. In this interview, Mr. Potter reiterated his statements, and added, “It’s crucial for people who’ve had trauma to have friends they can talk to. And if they don’t feel like they can open up to their friends, to find a good healer who specializes in mental health.”  _

_ Professor McGonagall made the right choice, it seems, in employing Anita Dooley as a healer-counselor for the students this year. All of the eighth year students we spoke to had only high praise for Healer Dooley.  _

_ “She helped with my guilt,” said Draco Malfoy.  _

_ “She talked me through my grief,” said Ron Weasley, Harry Potter’s long-time best friend. “My brother died in the battle last year, and it was difficult to come back to Hogwarts, knowing that’s where he drew his last breath. Healer Dooley was great, and she gave me a lot of hints about healthy ways to deal with grief.”  _

_ Weasley’s girlfriend, and third part of what many call the ‘golden trio,’ Hermione Granger agreed. “I had to do some things I didn’t want to do,” she said of her year in hiding with Weasley and Potter. “Without Healer Dooley here, I’m not sure I could have come back to Hogwarts at all.”  _

_ So what does the future hold for these eighth year students? Potter and Hermione already have Ministry-bound plans. Potter is to begin Auror training in October, Mr. Granger has discussed starting a Muggle Liaison office at the Ministry, pending approval from Minister Shacklebolt.  _

_ Though Mr. Weasley had planned on going into Auror training with Potter, he had a last minute change of plans. Instead he is going to replace his deceased brother, Fred, as the other half of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop in Diagon Alley.  _

_ Potter, not happy to play a third wheel to his two dating best friends, also began a relationship with Neville Longbottom, another war hero from last year, and former Gryffindor. When asked about it, Potter’s face softened, “It’s been great. Neville’s been patient with me, and encouraging me to work on some of the issues I’ve faced from the time before the battle.”  _

_ Longbottom, who will be apprenticing at a magical greenhouse in Wales next year, put it much more bluntly. “We were damaged, and as we came out of the wreckage and mess, Harry and I found each other and fell in love.”  _

_ Most surprising of this group, is the inclusion of Draco Malfoy. Though reluctant to talk to any reporters about his plans, his girlfriend, Lavender Brown, let us know that Malfoy has been accepted into the Potion Masters programme in Bucharest. He has spent much of the year working with Professor Slughorn on a potion that, according to Slughorn, “Will be a game-changer in the way we view werewolves.”  _

_ Ms. Brown, who was turned into a werewolf on the night of the battle last year, will be traveling to Bucharest with Mr. Malfoy. She is instrumental in helping him with the potion.  _

_ Although much of the attention has been paid to the students written about thus far in this article, the eighth year graduation class includes sixteen students. We would be remiss not to mention them all, and include their goals for the future, as well as a statement about this past year.   _

 

  * __Hannah Abbott: Will be moving to Diagon Alley to assist her Uncle Tom in running The Leaky Cauldron, with a plan to take over for him after retirement.  Abbott states, “I’m quite grateful to Hogwarts for allowing those of us who weren’t able to complete our studies last year an opportunity to do so. Being back at the castle was difficult at first, but as we rebuilt it, we all became stronger.”__



 

  * __Susan Bones: Will be a personal assistant to the Head of the Department in International Magical Cooperation. “I want the students in our year to stand up as examples of forgiveness and strength in adversity.”__



 

  * __Terry Boot: Will be attending the first year of the St. Mungo’s Healers’ Academy. “I thought I was only coming back to Hogwarts in order to get my N.E.W.Ts for Healers’ Academy. But I got a lot more out of this year than mere grades.”__



 

  * __Justin Finch-Fletchly: Long term plans undecided, has gotten a cooking job at the Three Broomsticks for next year. “There was never a question I’d be back this year. It was tough at first but it’s been bloody amazing watching the progress people’ve made.”__



 

  * __Seamus Finnegan: Taking a gap year to travel magical Europe with Dean Thomas, and the Patil twins. “I didn’t want me last memories of Hogwarts to be a battle. I needed to come back and help the castle heal. I never could have lived with myself if I hadn’t.”__



 

  * __Anthony Goldstein: Apprenticing at the Daily Prophet’s Wizarding Business Department. “You can never get too much education. It was important to me and to my parents that I come back and get all of what Hogwarts has to offer.”__



 

  * __Ernie MacMillan: Going into business with his father, who enchants muggle buildings bought by wizards to make them compatible with magic. “This turned out to be a much better year than I’d ever hoped. It’s crazy to see people you thought you couldn’t trust turn around and be all right blokes.”__



 

  * __Padma Patil: Taking a gap year and touring magical Europe. “This year has definitely brought us all closer together. I’ll never forget it.”__



 

  * __Pavarti Patil: Taking a gap year and touring magical Europe. “Getting rid of the sorting and the houses was the best decision the school board could have made. It was a relief to feel a kinship, not a competition, with my own classmates.”__



 

  * __Dean Thomas: Taking a gap year and touring magical Europe, with a long-term plan of being a magical portraitist. “I loved being back here. If I hadn’t come back this year, I probably would have packed up my wand and lived as a Muggle. I’m grateful to Seamus for convincing me I should give this a go.”__



 

  
_ I’m certain that the rest of the wizarding world can join everyone at the prophet in wishing the eighth year students the best.  _


End file.
